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Lucille.] 


The Young Flowek-Maker 



LUCILLE; 


OR, 


The Young Flower- Maker. 


Translated from the French of Stephanie Ory. 
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New York : 

D. & j’ SADLIER & CO., 

No. 31 BARCLAY STREET. 

1873. 





\ 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
D. & J SADLIER & CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


J. Ross & Co., Printers and Stereotypers, 27 Rose St., N. Y. 


CONTENTS 




CHAPTER L 

PAGE 

A Visit to the Universal Exposition of 1855, 5 

CHAPTER H. 

An English Bet, 27 

CHAPTER HI. 

In Which the Story of Little Lucille is 
Commenced 46 

CHAPTER IV. 

How Lucille Became a Flower-Maker, . . 65 

CHAPTER V. 

Lucille’s First Journey to Paris, . . .82 

CHAPTER VI. 

Lucille’s Second Journey to Paris, . . 104 

Conclusion, 122 



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LUCILLE; 

OR, 

The Young Flower-Maker. 


CHAPTER 1. 

SEJi VING AS AN IN TROD UCTION. 

A VISIT TO THE UNIVERSAL EXPOSITION 
OF 1855. 

ET not the title of this chapter 
frighten you, my dear readers ; 
do not fear that I will bring 
you through the immense gal- 
leries of the Palace of Industry and its ap- 
pendages, and pass in review before you 
the innumerable masterpieces of all kinds, 
of every production, sent from the five 
parts of the world to that great and peace- 





6 


Lucille ; or, 


ful industrial competition. I will content 
myself with conducting you to the centre 
of a group of young girls, belonging to the 

boarding-school of Madame X , one of 

the most distinguished in Paris for the ex- 
cellent education and the solid instruction 
there received, at the moment when they 
had stopped before the glass cases and the 
globes of all sizes containing the artificial 
flowers admitted to the exposition. Ger- 
many, Italy, England, Lyons, and Paris — 
Paris especially — had sent their most bril- 
liant specimens in this branch of industry. 

Our young scholars, after having gone 
into raptures over the general appearance 
of this graceful and splendid exhibition, 
passed to a more particular examination. 
As most of these employed their leisure 
in drawing flowers, or even in reproducing 
natural ones by the process used by pro- 
fessional flower artists, they were not alto- 
gether ignorant of that art, and could, to a 
certain extent, judge of the merit of the 
execution. What proves#that their appre- 
ciation was correct is that, anticipating the 
opinion of the International Committee, 
they decided gravely and by immense 


The Young Flower-Maker. 7 

majority that the other countries, even the 
other cities of France, were far from attain- 
ing the degree of perfection to which the 
making of artificial flowers had been 
carried in Paris, and that, with much effort 
and care, foreigners, and even provincials, 
could only succeed in approaching more 
or less the Parisian make, but never equal- 
ling, much less surpassing, it. 

I have said that this decision had been 
given by an immense majority, but it was 
not unanimous. In fact, two or three 
strenuously opposed this decision, which 
they considered partial, because, according 
to them, all those who had given it were 
Parisians. 

“ Let us see, young ladies,” answered the 
one who had been foremost in giving the 
decision, and who appeared to be one of 
the oldest and most influential of the little 
band ; you yourselves have too much good 
taste not to acknowledge what is so evi- 
dent. You, for example, Anais,” added 
she, addressing one of the opposition party, 
‘‘ you who are a Lyonnaise, if I told you 
that Paris made better silk and ribbons 
than Lyons or St. Etienne, you would be 


8 


Lucille ; or, 


perfectly right in accusing me of partiality ; 
you will permit me to say that your native 
city occupies only the second rank in the 
manufacture of flowers, whilst it is, I admit, 
first in the world in the manufacture of 
gilk goods.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ah ! you little rogue,” answered 
Anais, smiling, “ you are now trying to in- 
fluence me by flattering my national vanity ; 
but you will have a good deal to do to suc- 
ceed in persuading me that Lyons cannot 
as well surpass Paris in the making of arti- 
ficial flowers as she already surpasses her, 
by your own admission, in the manufac- 
ture of silks and ribbons. Both branches 
are a matter of taste, and, if we succeed in 
the one, why can we not succeed in the 
other? ” 

“ And why,” cried in her turn, with a 
somewhat marked Provencal accent, a 
pretty little brunette, with large black eyes 
full of vivacity and intelligence — “ why 
could not Marseilles and Avignon rival 
Paris in the manufacture of flowers, as well 
as Lyons? You cannot judge of them, it 
is true, by the specimens sent by these two 
cities ; but there are houses whose produc- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 9 

tions are admirable, and which, I know not 
why, do not figure at the exposition, per- 
haps because they did not see fit to be re- 
presented there. I might say as much of 
other towns in France ; of Besangon, for ex- 
ample, whose flowers of exquisite taste I 
have admired, or those of Nancy; but I 
leave the task of defending this last city to 
our friend Celine, who is from Lorraine, 
and who exclaimed a moment ago, with 
Anais and I, against the exaggerated pre- 
tensions of the Parisian young ladies.” 

She whom the little Provengal had just 
called Celine was a beautiful blonde of fif- 
teen or sixteen, with a fresh, pleasant face, 
sweet blue eyes, a slender and pliant figure. 
Thus called upon, Celine answered, blush- 
ing : “ I have not the presumption to wish 
to place my native city on a level with the 
great cities of Marseilles, Lyons, and espe- 
cially Paris ; that would be like compar- 
ing the little branch of the Meurthe which 
waters it to the great rivers Rhone or 
Seine. I even admit that the manufacture 
of flowers at Nancy, although having a cer- 
tain importance, cannot bear comparison 
with the cities which I have just mentioned. 


10 


Lucille ; or, 


But if Lorraine now occupies but a very 
secondary rank in this branch, it should not 
be forgotten that the florist’s art is no less 
under great obligations to it, for it was in 
our country that this art originated in 
France, to be afterwards extended to Lyons, 
Marseilles, and Paris.” 

“ How ! ” immediately exclaimed several 
voices. “ It was in Lorraine that the art of 
making artificial flowers was invented ? ” 

“ I do not say,” replied Celine, “ that it 
was invented there. No ; that art came to 
us from Italy, where it was discovered about 
the time of the Renaissance (revival of art) ; 
but it was brought into Lorraine about the 
middle of the sixteenth century, as is re- 
lated in a legend well known in our country, 
of which you. Mile. Cormier, must have 
heard, for you, I believe, have spent some 
time in Nancy.” 

Mile. Cormier, to whom Celine address- 
ed herself, was the sub-mistress who accom- 
panied the twelve or fifteen pupils who had 
that day obtained permission to visit the 
exposition. She heard in silence, some- 
times with a smile, the discussion carried 
on between the young girls, but she had 


The Young Flower-Maker. ii 


not thought proper to take part therein. 
To Celine’s question, Mile. Cormier re- 
plied : “ I have indeed heard that legend, 
which seemed to me very interesting, but I 
have almost entirely forgotten it ; you. 
Mile. Celine, should relate it to us ; I am 
sure that these young ladies would be glad 
to hear it.” 

“ Oh ! yes ! yes ! ” cried the girls all to- 
gether. “ A legend ! that must be charm- 
ing ; tell it to us, good Celine.” 

And without waiting for an answer, they 
sat down around Mile. Cormier, who had 
Celine and Anais at her right, and at her 
left the little Provengal and another 
boarder. 

On that day, there was no crowd at the 
exposition, which prevented our young 
people from being disturbed with visitors. 
Celine, without much pressing, but not 
without blushing a good deal, began thus : 

^‘Towards the year 1530, there lived in 
the neighborhood of Nancy a Lorraine 
lord named Lambert Harnauld, or Harnald. 
He was a true gentleman, equally renowned 
for his bravery and his piety. He had a 
special devdtion to the Blessed Virgin, in 


12 


Lucille ; or, 


whose honor he had erected a chapel in 
his castle. This castle, situated not far from 
the frontier, was often in times of war ex- 
posed to the attacks of the enemy, and 
Harnald, although he could depend for 
his defence on the valor of the men-at-arms 
whom he commanded, and on his own 
courage, depended yet more on the pro- 
tection of the Mother of God, whom he 
had solemnly acknowledged for his liege- 
lady, and Avhose vassal he declared himself. 

“ One day, a troop of German cavalry, 
, belonging to that fanatical sect founded 
in consequence of the heresy of Luther, 
cast themselves on the frontiers of Lor- 
raine, pillaging and sacking the convents 
and churches, throwing down crosses, and 
destroying the peaceable dwellings of the 
inhabitants of the country. At the ap- 
proach of these miscreants, Harnald placed 
himself at the head of his best men-at- 
arms, to go to the defence of his vassals, 
who implored his help. Very soon he met 
the enemy ; but, although his troop was 
much less numerous than that of the Ger- 
mans, he did not hesitate to attack them, 
after having recommended himself to God 


The Young Flower-Maker. 13 

and to the Blessed Virgin, his liege-lady. 
The impetuosity of the Lorrainese knight 
and his men-at-arms at first made the here- 
tics fall back ; but, rallying at the voice 
of their chief, who had noticed the small 
number of their assailants, they held 
their ground, and, in their turn, furiously 
attacked Harnald’s little troop. Sustained 
by the voice and example of their intrepid 
chief, our Lorrainese performed prodigies of 
valor. The Germans were on the point of 
giving way again, when their captain, a sort 
of giant clothed in iron, advanced, with visor 
lowered and his lance in rest, against the 
valiant Harnald. The latter had only time 
to put himself on the defensive, and to 
ward off the terrible blow which his adver- 
sary dealt him. Then took place between 
the two chiefs a kind of single combat, 
which was to end in the death of one or 
the other. By a kind of tacit consent, the 
two armies remained motionless spectators 
of the duel. As soon as Harnald realized 
the danger which he ran, for he could not 
conceal from himself the superiority of his 
adversary, better mounted, larger, and 
stronger than himself, he made a vow that. 


14 


Lucille ; or, 


if he came victorious from this contest, he 
would do homage to the Blessed Virgin 
every day while he lived with a bouquet of 
fresh flowers. Almost immediately the 
struggle began ; it was long and terrible. 
Harnald, twice wounded, felt his strength 
fail him ; he was about to yield, when all 
at once he exclaimed ; ‘ O my beloved 
Lady! O blessed Virgin Mary ! will you let 
this heretic, this vile miscreant, vanquish 
your sincere and devoted servant ? ’ 

“ At these words, he took courage ; and 
with a supreme effort he threw himself on 
his adversary, and dealt him so terrible a 
blow that he stretched him dead at his feet. 
At this sight, the Germans fled as fast 
as their horses could carry them, and the 
Lorrainese pursued them closely, killed a 
great number, and forced the rest to aban- 
don the country. 

“ Harnald, on his return to the castle, im- 
mediately thought of fulfilling his vow. It 
was a thing easy enough at the time, for 
what I have related took place in the 
month of May. As long as the fine weather 
lasted, Harnald could profusely decorate 
the altar and statue of the Mother of the 


The Young Flower-Maker. 15 

Saviour with fresh flowers every day ; but, 
when the autumn mists came, he began to 
realize that his vow had been very rash; 
fresh flowers became every day more rare, 
for conservatories were but little known at 
this period. To the mists succeeded the 
hoar-frost, and, after twenty-four hours of 
hard search, some pale snow-drops could 
only be found. Harnald was in despair; 
to fail in his vow appeared to him an un- 
pardonable perjury ; he had it announced 
that during the winter he would pay their 
weight in gold for any flowers that were 
brought him. 

“ It happened then that one of those ad- 
venturers so common at that time present- 
ed himself to the Lorrainese lord, and 
offered to provide him every morning with 
a bouquet of flowers, not gathered from the 
earth, but made by the hand of man, as 
they were made in Italy, where he had long 
resided. 

Harnald at first hesitated to accept 
this offer ; it seemed to him that this man- 
ner of accomplishing his vow was almost a 
subterfuge ; but a moment’s reflection dis- 
pelled this scruple ; he said to himself that 


i6 


Lucille; or, 


the holy Mother of God was too merciful 
*to exact from her fervent and devoted 
servant more than was possible, and that, 
besides, his vow would be literally accom- 
plished, since the flowers would be not only 
new^ but, besides, made exclusively for his 
intention. He accepted it then ; learned 
from the adventurer to make flowers as 
they were then made in Italy, that is to 
say, in a very imperfect manner. In fact, 
at that period, there were only used in 
Italy, for the manufacture of artificial 
flowers, pieces of silk or ribbon of different 
colors, without gradation of shade, of 
which were made fantastic, extravagant 
petals, which were applied to all kinds of 
flowers, so that there was no difference be- 
tween the corolla of a rose and that of a 
poppy, and the calyx of every flower was 
very much alike. As for stamens, pistils, 
anthers, there was no question of them ; 
and the stems, larger or smaller, were of 
wood or thick wire covered with green silk. 
These imperfect flowers were placed in the 
churches, on very high altars, and in places 
where, being seen only at a distance, the 
illusion was more easy. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 17 


“ Such were the lessons which Harnald re- 
ceived from the stranger ; but, as he had 
taste, he soon discovered the imperfections 
of so rude an art ; then, as his zeal in that 
study was as ardent as his faith was lively, 
he quickly became superior to his master, 
and he undertook to perfect the art which 
he himself had been taught. He soon re- 
placed the ribbons and pieces of silk, which 
with difficulty assumed the form of leaves 
and petals, by a parchment prepared ex- 
pressly, and to which he succeeded in giv- 
ing all the colors and shades desirable for 
the stems, which the professor made of 
wood or wire. The pupil substituted for cer- 
tain flowers boar’s bristles. At length, 
taking his models from nature, and not 
from imagination, he succeeded in imitat- 
ing the most beautiful flowers with a per- 
fection which none had attained before 
him. 

“ So beautiful an art could not remain 
long unknown, and soon there was not a 
lady within ten leagues around who did not 
think herself happy in possessing one of 
these charming bouquets from the hands of 
the skilful and noble artist Harnald. 


1 8 Lucille ; OR, 

“ I will add, in conclusion, that this for- 
tunate gentleman had very soon numerous 
imitators, not only among the noble ladies 
of the province, but among the manufac- 
turers of the time, for some of whom the 
love of gain was a no less powerful stimu- 
lus than devotion to the Blessed Virgin 
had been with Harnald. It was thus that 
this manufacture was established at Nancy 
towards the middle of the sixteenth cen- 
tury, and from there has extended, as I 
have said, throughout all France, and espe- 
cially to Paris, where, even at the begin- 
ning of the seventeenth century, there were 
several flower-makers skilful enough to 
make a European reputation.” 

All Celine’s companions applauded her 
story, and thanked her for her kindness. 
The Parisians only remarked that, even ac- 
cording to the story, the superiority of 
Paris in that branch of manufacture was 
established from the beginning of the se- 
venteenth century, and since that period 
had increased every year. 

“ Permit me, young ladies,” then said 
Mile. Cormier; “ without reopening the dis- 
cussion, which appears to me a very idle 


The Young Flower-Maker. 19 

one, as to the incontestable superiority 
of Paris in the manufacture of flowers, I 
will observe that this superiority has special 
causes which give our capital an advantage 
which neither the other cities of France nor 
foreign countries possess. In the first 
place, it is Paris which generally rules the 
fashions of all civilized nations ; and, 
as artificial flowers form an essential part 
of the elegant toilets of which fashion in- 
cessantly varies the form and color, it is 
not surprising that Paris collects the great- 
est number of artists distinguished in this 
branch as in so many others. But fashion 
is capricious, and from the day it would 
cease to make use of floral ornaments, the 
art would become stationary even at Paris, 
and would perhaps soon fall into decay. 
You seem to doubt this,” continued Mile. 
Cormier, observing a movement of incredu- 
lity manifested in one part of her audience ; 

yet nothing is more true, and it is pre- 
cisely what took place in the eighteenth 
century, during the whole duration of the 
long reign of Louis XV. By a caprice of 
fashion, or, if you like it better, of the 
great ladies of that period, flowers ceased 


20 


Lucille ; or, 


to be among their ornaments ; they were 
neglected, abandoned. Natural flowers 
were no longer cultivated, and, with greater 
reason, artificial ones were no longer fabri- 
cated. But the arrival of Marie Antoi- 
nette in France made a rapid reaction in 
favor of flowers, and soon restored to them 
their former favor. 

“ Like all superior and truly elegant wo- 
men, this princess had, in a very high degree, 
the sentiment of the beautiful and graceful. 
She was passionately fond of flowers. It 
needed no more to make these poor de- 
spised ones come again into fashion ; not 
only were they cultivated everywhere, but 
every one wished to make them, and soon 
there was not a lady of the court who did 
not know how to form stems, leaves, co- 
rollas, calyxes, petals, and the rest, which, 
for many among them, had the double ad- 
vantage of teaching them some elements of 
botany. 

“ This new favor given to the flower-mak- 
er’s art attracted to Paris a great number of 
manufacturers distinguished in this branch ; 
for it is well, young ladies, to remark inci- 
dentally that, if Paris shines with an incom- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 21 


parable lustre in arts and manufactures, she 
does not always owe it to her own children, 
but also in great measure to the crowd of 
persons who come from the provinces or 
from abroad, who are attracted to Paris as 
towards a centre where they hope to find for- 
tune and glory. Often they meet with only 
cruel disappointment. This is even the lot 
reserved for most of them. Some only, 
favored by fortunate circumstances, attain 
rapid, wonderful success, which carries them 
in an instant to the pinnacle of fame. This 
happened, at the period of which I speak, 
to a foreigner named Wendzel. He was at 
the same time a very skilful artist and a 
man of talent. He seized with perfect tact 
every opportunity to make himself known. 
It is related that one day the Count 
d’Artois, afterwards king under the title 
of Charles X., sent for Wendzel. This 
was towards the end of December, 1784. 
The prince said to the artist : ‘ I can and 
will only offer to the queen, at the begin- 
ning of the year, a simple flower ; but this 
flower, having no intrinsic value, must be a 
masterpiece, a marvel of art, and conse- 
quently of inestimable value. I am told 


22 


Lucille ; or, 


that you alone are capable of realizing the 
idea which I have conceived. Can I de- 
pend on you ? ’ 

“ ‘ I will do my best,’ answered the artist, 

‘ the impossible even, if need be ; and I 
trust that your lordship will be satisfied.’ 

“ Wendzel kept his word, and a few days 
after the whole court admired in the cor- 
sage of Marie Antoinette the most beauti- 
ful, the freshest, and most delicious rose 
ever seen. The artist had truly surpassed 
himself ; the petals of this matchless flower 
were made of those light and almost va- 
porous pellicules which line the inside of 
egg-shells, and they were so arranged as to 
imitate the cipher of the queen. 

“ It may be imagined that this master- 
piece raised to its height the reputation of 
Wendzel, and the infatuation of the Pari- 
sians for artificial flowers. All the great 
ladies wished to take lessons from him, for 
which the fortunate professor was paid an 
exorbitant price. It was truly at this period 
that the art of making artificial flowers re- 
ceived in France its great letters of natural- 
ization, and it may be affirmed that in no 
other country in the world has it reached 


The Young Flower-Maker. 23 


so high a degree of perfection. What would 
tend to prove that this taste for artificial 
flowers was not a caprice or passing fancy, 
is that, ever since the time of Wendzel, that 
is to say, for seventy years, this art, far 
from remaining stationary or falling in any 
degree into decay, has not ceased to make 
new progress up to the present day. At 
the two or three expositions which pre- 
ceded this one, I heard it said, speaking of 
the manufacture of flowers: ‘ It is not pos- 
sible to go any further ; perfection has at- 
tained its furthest limits.’ They instanced, 
amongst others, at one of these exposi- 
tions, flowers and fruits in wax which so 
well imitated nature that the most skilful 
florists themselves mistook them, and that 
unless by touching it was impossible to dis- 
tinguish the products of nature from Jhose 
of art. Well, at every new exposition 
there was always some new prodigy, and 
this one, in my opinion, even surpasses ail 
that have preceded it. jTo prove this, I 
will not enter into a minute or even general 
examination of the magnificent products 
which you admired a moment ago, and 
which even you have appreciated with 


24 


Lucille ; or, 


justice and tact. I only wish to call your 
attention to a little wonder which occupies 
but a small place, and which, on that ac- 
count, may have perhaps escaped some of 
you ; it is a specimen of the kind of which 
I have been speaking to you, in which the 
artist has tried to rival nature itself. Only, 
in the example which I gave you, there 
was question of fruits and flowers in wax ; 
but wax is a substance which is admirably 
adapted to receive all forms, all impres- 
sions, and all the colors that people may 
choose to give it ; hence, when there is 
question of solid bodies and objects of a 
certain consistency, such as fruits and cer- 
tain flowers whose form is in some sort 
compact, we can understand that the most 
perfect imitation can be obtained in wax ; 
but the difficulty is to attain that perfec- 
tion ’^ith the ordinary materials which at 
the same time permits the manufacture of 
the most delicate flowers and those in- 
numerable accessories to certain plants 
known as stipules, tendrils, hair, down, 
etc., all the objects which wax cannot 
imitate. Well, young ladies, it is this 
difficulty which seems to me to have been 


The Young Flower-Maker. 25 


overcome in the little masterpiece of which 
I speak. Have you remarked, in the third 
case to the left of that gallery ” (and she. 
pointed with her hand to the gallery of 
which she spoke), “ two of those vases which 
usually serve to ornament a mantelpiece, a 
bracket, an etag^re ? ” 

To this question, most of the girls replied 
that they had not noticed them ; some 
others had seen them, but had remarked 
nothing extraordinary which seemed worthy 
to fix their attention in a special manner. 
One of them observed that she had noticed 
these two vases, and had much admired 
the rare perfection with which the flowers, 
were executed ; that she had only been 
surprised that the two bouquets were ex- 
actly alike, and each composed of the same 
number and of the same kind of roses, 
pinks, blue-bells, etc., arranged in the same 
manner, and with the same symmetry. “ It 
was then,” added she, in conclusion, “ that I 
said to myself : ‘ These two vases, with their 
contents, resemble the two views which 
make but one image when seen through 
the glasses of a stereoscope ; I am sure 
that it would be the same if we looked. 


36 


Lucille. 


at these two vases in the same man- 
ner.’ ” 

“ Well, my dear Anais ” (for it was our 
friend Anais the Lyonnaise who had thus 
spoken), said Mile. Cormier, “ you thus 
bestow the highest praise on the work in 
question, and what you say proves that 
you have examined it very attentively. 
Yes, young ladies ; Anais’s comparison with 
the stereoscopic views is perfectly correct ; 
only there is one difference of which she 
has not told you : it is that, in the stereo- 
scope, each of the views is made in the 
same manner, and composed of the same 
substance as the other; whilst here, one of 
the two bouquets is formed of artificial dow- 
sers, and the other — of natural flowers.” 

“ Of natural flowers ! ” exclaimed all the 
girls in astonishment. “ O mademoiselle ! 
let us go and see this wonder,” added they, 
rising all at once, and begging Mile Cor- 
mier to take them to where it was. The 
latter, who asked nothing better, hastened 
to assent to their desire, and in a 
moment the whole troop were gathered 
around the globe containing these two 
vases, so like and yet so different. 



CHAPTER 11. 

AN ENGLISH BET. 

HEN our young friends arrived 
at the place indicated, they 
found there two English gentle- 
men and two ladies, who were 
engaged in a lively discussion among them- 
selves concerning the two bouquets. Each 
of them held in their hand a catalogue, 
given them by one of the clerks of the ex- 
hibitor to whom these cases belonged. At 
the bottom of the catalogue, which the 
same clerk hastened to hand to our young 
scholars when they came near him, was 
seen this note : 

“ Visitors are requested to notice the 
two vases of flowers placed under globe 
No. 3 (the House of Durier & Co.); one 
of these vases is filled with natural flowers ; 
the other is filled with flowers exactly the 





28 


Lucille ; or, 


same, but artificial. Persons who can dis- 
tinguish at sight the nature of each bouquet 
are requested to inform the exhibitor ; if 
the reasons for that distinction are acknow- 
ledged serious, those who have guessed 
right will receive their choice of one of the 
flowers exposed in the case, or a free ticket 
of admission for the rest of the expo- 
sition.” 

Thereupon a lively discussion was carried 
on, as we have said, between the four Eng- 
lish ladies and gentlemen. As Mile. Cor- 
mier and most of her pupils understood 
English, they listened with much interest 
and attention to the dispute. 

After having examined the vases for a 
long time in silence, one of the gentlemen 
said : “ I do not believe that it is possible 
to perceive any difference between these 
two vases. What do you say, my lady ? ” 

My lady put up her eye-glass, advanced 
a few steps, drew back again, placed her- 
self in a different posture, and, after all 
these manoeuvres, laconically answered : 
“ No, my lord ; I do not think so either.” 

During this time, the other couple had 


The Young Flower-Maker. 29 

been examining the flowers no less care- 
fully, when all at once the gentleman ex- 
claimed : “ Oh ! I have guessed the answer 
to the enigma.” 

At these Vords, the other gentleman be- 
gan to examine the flowers even more care- 
fully than at first ; then, addressing his com- 
panion, he said: “You pretend to dis- 
tinguish from here which of these vases 
contains natural flowers, and which arti- 
ficial ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ And I do not believe it ; I bet you any- 
thing you wish that you are mistaken.” 

“ I bet fifty pounds sterling.” 

“ And I bet a hundred that you are mis- 
taken.” 

“ I take it.” 

And the two Englishmen gave each other 
an energetic shake of the hand to ratify their 
bet. 

The conditions of the bet were soon 
agreed upon ; the clerk was called, and the 
question submitted to him. The latter 
answered that it was not for him to decide, 
and he went to seek Madame Durier, his 
employer, who alone could, according to 


30 


Lucille ; or, 


him, decide the question. Madame Durier 
soon arrived, saluted Mile. Cormier as an 
acquaintance, and, thinking it was she who 
had sent for her, asked her what she 
wanted. The latter in a few words made 
her acquainted with the affair. Then, 
Madame Durier, turning to the Englishmen, 
politely said : “ Gentlemen, it appears that 
you have discovered a means of distinguish- 
ing from here the nature of the flowers in 
these two vases ; in that case, you have 
gained the prize announced, if your dis- 
covery fulfils the conditions assigned.'’ 

“It is not I, madame,” said the one who 
had bet a hundred guineas. “ I declare, on 
the contrary, that I consider it impossible, 
unless by touch, to distinguish which of 
these flowers are natural and which are 
not. It is this gentleman," added he, 
pointing to his countryman, “ who pre- 
tends to distinguish them, and I have bet 
him a hundred pounds that he is mis- 
taken." 

“ In that case, sir," said Madame Duriei, 
turning to the other Englishman, “ will you 
have the goodness to point out to me the 
natural and artificial? " 


The Young Flower-Maker. 31 

I admit, madame,” answered the gen- 
tleman just addressed, ‘‘ that at the first 
glance I was entirely of the opinion of my 
friend here ; and I acknowledge that, but 
for an almost imperceptible circumstance, 
it would have been impossible for me to 
discover the difference which I can now 
point out. The two bouquets are exactly 
alike, composed of the same number of 
flowers, which seem identical ; yet, in ex- 
amining them with the greatest attention, 
I perceived that among the roses of one of 
them was a variegated dahlia, correspond- 
ing to a variegated rose which occupies the 
same place in the other bouquet. The re- 
semblance of shade and form in these two 
flowers, seen at some distance, could easily 
be confounded by less practised eyes than 
mine ; but, now that I have mentioned this 
fact, any one can see it as well as I.” 

Every one immediately turned their eyes 
on the two vases, and what he said was, in 
fact, found to be true. 

“Your observation, sir,” said Madame 
Durier,.“is perfectly correct; but what do 
you conclude from it? ” 

“ I conclude, madame,” replied the Eng- 


32 


Lucille ; or, 


lishman, in a confident tone, that the dah- 
lia does not bloom until September, or at 
soonest until the month of August. As it 
is now June, the latter is a contraband 
dahlia, or, if you will, a perfect imitation 
of a dahlia, but still only a production of 
art. Now, as one artificial would not have 
been placed amongst your natural flowers, 
which would be contrary to your prospec- 
tus, which states that each of these two 
vases is composed entirely of natural or 
artificial flowers, I conclude, in a word, 
that the bouquet to which it belongs is it- 
self entirely composed of artificial flowers.’’ 

At these conclusions, so logically de- 
duced, most of the spectators, attracted 
by the discussion, and they had now be- 
come quite numerous, supposed the Eng- 
lishman who had just spoken to be right ; 
and his adversary, bowing his head, seemed 
already to acknowledge himself beaten, 
Avhen Madame Durier, addressing the one 
who pretended to have discovered the mys- 
tery, said, pointing to the vase which con- 
tained the accusing dahlia : 

‘‘ Then, sir, it is this bouquet that you 
say is composed of artificial flowers ? 


The Young Flower-Maker. 33 

“Yes, madame.” 

“ And this one,” added she, pointing to 
the other, “ consequently contains only 
natural flowers ? ” 

“ That is my opinion, madame.” 

“ Well,” replied Madame Durier, open- 
ing the case, and taking out the first vase, 
“ I am sorry for you, sir; but you have lost 
your bet.” 

At the same time, taking the bouquet 
from the vase, she showed its stems, the 
ends of which were placed in water to keep 
them fresh ; she made them touch the 
leaves, the calyxes, the corollas, inhale the 
perfume of the roses, pinks, etc. ; then, 
taking the other vase, she took out the 
bouquet with more care, which did not 
prevent that sort of crumpling noise pro- 
duced by the friction of the light stuffs 
and the artificial stems of which the bou- 
quet was formed ; she then showed the 
steel and brass wire which appeared un- 
covered at the lower end ; made them touch 
the various parts of the flowers, remarking 
that they were without fragrance, because 
they had neglected to perfume them with 
the essence of each flower which they imi- 


34 Lucille ; or, 

tated, which would have given them an 
additional resemblance to natural flowers. 

All the spectators were lost in admira- 
tion, and the Englishman, who had gained 
his bet, kept saying : “ How very inge- 
nious ! ” 

But his adversary would not admit him- 
self beaten, and sought, as is often seen in 
desperate cases, to cling to a branch ; but 
now this branch was but a flower, which 
could not give him a solid support. 

“ Excuse me, madame,” said he to Ma- 
dame Durier ; “ in all that you have shown 
us, you have said nothing of the dahlia. I 
still maintain that it cannot be natural, be- 
cause it does not bloom at this season ; and 
if you have placed an artificial flower in a 
vase containing natural flowers, you have 
by that means led me into error, and have 
been the cause of my losing the bet ; or 
rather, I think the bet should be annulled.” 

‘‘Your remark would be just, sir,” re- 
plied Madame Durier, “ if the dahlia in 
question were artificial ; but it is as natural 
as the other flowers amongst which it is 
placed ; and, as a proof,” added she, draw- 
ing it from the bouquet, “ here it is ; 


The Young. Flower-Maker. 35 


examine it, and you will discover that it is 
the work of the Immortal Artist, who cre- 
ated with the greatest ease a world and a 
flower.” 

“ Oh ! very ingenious ! very ingenious ! ” 
repeated the Englishman who had won. 

The other at length admitted his defeat ; 
but he asked Madame Durier how it was 
that this dahlia was in flower sooner than 
usual. 

“ That,” answered she, “ I cannot ex- 
plain, for I do not occupy myself with the 
culture of natural flowers ; only this morn- 
ing, when I applied to one of the floral 
gardeners of the Horticultural Exposition 
for the natural flowers to form this bou- 
quet, he had not at the time any varie- 
gated roses, and he gave me that dahlia to 
take its place, assuring me that no one 
would perceive the change ; but he did not 
foresee that this bouquet would be exa- 
mined by so ingenious and penetrating an 
observer as the gentleman.” 

“ Thanks to my ingenuity and penetra- 
tion, I have lost a hundred pounds ster- 
ling,” replied the Englishman crossly. 

“ Oh ! no, no,” cried the other English- 


3 ^ 


Lucille ; or, 


man; “you will not lose all. I will buy 
from madame, if she consents, these two 
vases of flowers, and I will make you a 
present of them, always on condition that 
madame will make two others exactly 
alike for me. I will give in payment for all 
the amount of our bet, that is to say, a 
hundred pounds sterling, namely, fifty im- 
mediately, and the other fifty when the new 
vases are delivered to me. Madame, do 
you accept these conditions ? '' 

“ Sir,’’ answered Madame Durier, “ be- 
fore answering, I must consult a person 
whom I see here. Will you have the kind- 
ness to wait a few moments ? ” 

The Englishman made a sign of assent, 
and Madame Durier, advancing towards 
the group of young school-girls, approached 
Mile. Cormier, and said to her in a low 
voice : 

“You heard, mademoiselle, what this 
lord has just proposed ? Do you think 
your protegee could make another bouquet 
exactly like that one ? ” 

“ I think so, or rather, I am convinced of 
it,” answered Mile. Cormier; “only she 
will, perhaps, require a month at least to 


The Young Flower-Maker. 37 

finish it. Therefore you can accept the 
gentleman’s offer, asking until the end of 
July to fulfil his order.” 

“Very well,” replied Madame Durier ; 
“but there is something else to be done,, 
which is also my affair. Leave it to me.” 

Madame Durier returned to the English- 
man, and told him that his conditions were 
accepted, allowing a certain delay for the 
manufacture of the new bouquet ; then she 
added that the bought vase Avould not be 
delivered immediately, because it was ne- 
cessary for the artiste to come and study 
them from time to time, so as to make tlie 
others exactly the same ; but that, to se- 
cure him possession of them, she wrote on 

each of the vases : “ Sold to Lord > for 

the sum of 1,250 francs.” 

“ I accept the delay which you ask,” an- 
swered his lordship ; “ but as to the delay 
in the delivery of the two vases, that re- 
gards this gentleman,” added he, pointing: 
to his opponent ; “ for it is to him, and not 
to me, that they belong.” 

The loser agreed to this arrangement, on 
condition that Madame Durier would care- 
fully renew the natural flowers, and would. 


38 


Lucille ; or, 


always arrange them in the same manner 
which they were then.” 

“ I promise to do so,” answered she ; 
‘'otherwise, it would be too easy to dis- 
tinguish the true from the false flowers. 
In fact, they are living ; but their exist- 
ence. is short — they wither and die at the 
end of one or two days ; the others have 
only the appearance of life, but they retain 
for a long time, often for years, all their 
brilliancy and all their first freshness. Thus, 
the former could be easily distinguished 
when they began to droop and fade, whilst 
the others would preserve their freshness ; 
thus, in such a case, a bet like that of to- 
day would be altogether impossible.” 

Everything was thus arranged ; the 
Englishman paid on account in the form 
of a deposit, then signed a promise to pay 
the remainder on the fulfilment of the sti- 
pulated conditions. 

When all was ended, Madame Durier 
came with an exultant air to find Mile. 
Cormier, and said to her, laughing: “ Well, 
I hope you are pleased with me ; you see 
I have done very well with your deposit.” 

“ Indeed, madame,” replied Mile. Cor- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 39 

mier, smiling, “ I almost fear that you have 
done too well ; as for me, if it regarded me 
personally, I do not know if in conscience 
I could accept so exorbitant a price for a 
work imdoubtedly well done, but which, 
after all, is not entitled to such remunera- 
tion. 

“ There is a scruple ! ” exclaimed Mad- 
ame Durier, laughing; it is easy to see 
that you have been brought up in a con- 
vent, mademoiselle ; and you would do 
better to take the veil than remain in the 
world. But do not give your little pro- 
tegee such ideas ; that dear child interests 
me ; and, since an occasion presents itself 
to make a good bargain, I wish her to pro- 
fit by it, and I will take the sin upon my- 
self, if sin there be.” 

“ No, madame,” answered Mile. Cor- 
mier ; do not think myself scrupulous, 
at least in the exaggerated sense of that 
word ; yet you should remember that, when 
I presented this work to you, and asked 
you at how much you estimated it, you 
answered that for you it was not worth 
more than from seventy to eighty francs at 
the most ; but that an amateur, if he saw 


40 


Lucille ; or, 


it, might perhaps double the sum. It was 
then we agreed that you would exhibit it 
with your products at the exposition, be- 
cause there, said you, we would have more 
chance of meeting with an amateur who 
would give a hundred and forty to a hun- 
dred and fifty francs. But twelve hundred 
francs ! that appears to me exorbitant, it 
is so far beyond your own estimation.” 

“ But take notice, mademoiselle, that my 
estimate was based on the current com- 
mercial prices, and that I valued these flowers 
as a merchant, and not at all as an artist, 
much less an amateur. When I knew that 
it was for that poor orphan girl who sup- 
ports her adopted parents by her labor, I 
told you that it must run the chance of 
obtaining a higher price from some amateur. 
As for the latter price, I could only fix it 
very imperfectly. I told you a hundred 
and forty to a hundred and sixty francs, as 
I might have said five hundred, or a thou- 
sand, or even two thousand ; for who can 
calculate the value which objects of art 
have in the eyes of certain amateurs? For 
them, they often place on these things a 
value of affection, taste, or fancy which 


The Young Flower-Maker. 41 


exceeds by two hundred, five hundred, or 
a thousand the commercial value of these 
same articles. See pictures, for example ; 
an article which a merchant values at, or 
for which he pays, only two or three hun- 
dred francs, will bring at a public sale two 
or three thousand. But without going out 
of our specialty, do you think that the 
rose made by Wendzel for the Count 
d’Artois, and destined for Marie Antoi- 
nette, did not bring a considerable price, 
which could have no connection with the 
market price of such productions ? Finally, 
mademoiselle, to place your conscience and 
that of your protegee perfectly at rest, I will 
observe that it was neither you nor I who 
asked this enormous price ; it was the 
Englishman who offered it himself, who in 
some sort threw it before us with as much 
ease as he had won it. It would have been 
folly not to pick it up, and, if there was any 
room for scruples, it would be for having 
refused so good an opportunity of serving 
a young orphan so interesting as your 
protegee.” 

‘‘ I yield, madame, to such valid reasons, 
especially the last, and I admit that you 


42 


Lucille ; or, 


have done well to accept the Englishman's 
offer ; but what is your intention in requir- 
ing that the vases should remain exposed, 
with the price and the name of the person 
who bought them marked on them ? ” 

“ Why, it is simply to state a fact the 
correctness of which every one can verify. 

You understand that Lord ’s bet will 

be much talked off in high society; perhaps 
it will even be spoken of in the papers. I 
will soon see coming to my cases a crowd 
of the most distinguished ladies and gen- 
tlemen in England and in France. I will 
be questioned, asked for explanations ; 
then I will make known the name and 
position of the young artist who makes 
these pretty bouquets ; people will want 
to buy them, orders will be given for them, 
and our protegee will find herself able to 
make a good living, and, who knows, even 
to establish herself in an advantageous 
manner.” 

“ Thanks, madame, for the poor child. 
What you do for her does you honor, and 
the hopes which you conceive, even if they 
are not realized, prove your goodness of 
heart and disinterestedness.” 


The Young Flower-Maker. 43 

“ On my part, there may be a little good- 
ness of heart, as you say, mademoiselle ; 
but there is not as much disinterestedness 
as you would suppose. In the first place, 
you know that I reserve for myself a right 
of commission on the price of objects the 
sale of which I procure. I am, then, inter- 
ested that your protegee should manufacture 
many, in order that I may sell many of her 
bouquets. And then, this is not all : as 
she only sells them at my house, that makes 
my establishment known, extends my repu- 
tation, and brings me considerable custom.’’ 

“ Well, madame, I will not discuss with 
you the motives on which you have acted 
in this affair. That whilst doing good you 
do not neglect your own interests is no- 
thing more than right, and no one can say 
to the contrary. I wish with all my heart 
that you may succeed in your plans for 
our poor orphan, and that this good work 
may draw down the blessing of Heaven on 
your house.” 

“ Amen, mademoiselle ; but do not forget 
to inform your protegee, as soon as possible, 
of what has taken place, that she may get 
to work.” 


44 


Lucille ; or, 


“ I will not forget. It is now time for us 
to return home, and, as soon as I have 
reached the school, I will write to her.” 
And so saying, she saluted Madame Du- 
rier ; then turning to her pupils, she said : 

“Young ladies, it is time to think of 
leaving ; but first I must ask you if you 
are satisfied with the masterpiece which I 
promised to show you ? ” 

“ Oh I yes, mademoiselle ; it was truly 
admirable.” 

“ And the English bet amused us very 
much,” added another. 

“ But you did not tell us,” said Anais, 
“ that you knew the flower-maker, or ra- 
ther, the artist, who made this bouquet.” 

“ Is it one of your former pupils ? Was 
it you taught her to make flowers ? ” asked 
another. 

“ No, young ladies ; she was not my pu- 
pil, and it was not I who taught her to 
make flowers. You know what I can do 
in that line ; all that I know I learned 
from Madame Durier, who formerly gave 
me lessons and advice. I would, then, be 
incapable of forming so distinguished a 
pupil.” 


The Young Flower-Maker. 45 

“ And who, then, gave her lessons ? ” 
asked Anais. 

“ She has received none ; she was her 
own teacher, or rather, it was God who 
gave her that extraordinary talent, which 
developed itself naturally. As for models, 
she never had any others than those so 
profusely furnished her by the fields aud 
the gardens.” 

Hers must be a very interesting his- 
tory ; why did you never tell it to us ? ” 
Because I wished you to see first a 
specimen of her work. I was sure that 
you would appreciate it, that the interest 
which it would inspire would reflect in 
part on its author, and that then you 
would listen to her history with much 
more attention.” 

“ Well, mademoiselle, now that we are 
able to judge of this beautiful work, when 
will you tell us the story? ” 

‘‘ At once ! at once ! ” asked the most 
impatient. 

‘‘ We have not time just now,” answered 
Mademoiselle Cormier. “ It is time to go 
home ; but I will relate it to you at this 
evening’s recreation in the garden.” 



CHAPTER III. 

IN WHICH THE STORY OF LITTLE LUCILLE 
IS COMMENCED. 

UPPER was scarcely finished, 
and the pupils gone into the 
garden, when the young ladies 
of whom we have spoken in 
the preceding chapters surrounded Mile. 
Cormier, to remind her of her promise. 
The sub-mistress required no pressing. 
She sat down on a round, grassy bank, 
where place was found not only for those 
who had the day before visited the Palace 
of Industry, but, besides, for a score of 
their companions of the higher division, to 
whom they had related the incidents of 
their visit to the exposition, and who were 
no less impatient than the former to hear 
Mile. Cormier’s story. As soon as every 
one was seated, which was not done with- 
out a little disturbance, silence was reli- 




The Young Flower-Maker. 47 

giously observed, and Mile. Cormier began 
thus : 

“ Many among you, young ladies, must 
remember, three years ago, in the month of 
March, 1852, I was taken sick, and, after 
my recovery, I went to spend my conva- 
lescence in the country. I had chosen for 
this temporary residence the house of one 
of my early friends, Madame de Souval, a 
former companion at the convent where I 
was educated. Married and settled for 
some time at Touraine, she urged me every 
year to go and see her during the long va- 
cation ; but family duties called me, during 
the September vacations, in a very oppo- 
site direction, and the rest of the year my 
occupations did not permit me to accept 
her repeated invitations. My convalescence 
corresponding precisely to a period of the 
year when I was entirely free, I profited by 
it to go and see my friend. I will not 
paint the Avelcome which I received ; that 
is foreign to my subject ; besides, you can 
easily figure to yourselves the happiness 
experienced by two friends when they see 
each other again after long years of separa- 
tion. Nor will I describe Madame de 


48 


Lucille ; or, 


Souval’s residence, nor the charming coun- 
try in which it is situated ; I do not much 
like these descriptions, and here they would 
be out of place ; for the rest, you all know, 
at least by reputation, Touraine, which is 
justly named the Garden of France. Well, 
it will suffice for me to tell you that the 
village in which is situated my friend’s lit- 
tle villa is one of the prettiest spots in that 
beautiful country. 

“ I soon recovered my health in the pure 
air of the country, where life seems so 
calm and so easy. I rose early every morn- 
ing ; I went alone to walk in the meadow, 
or to hear Mass at the parish church ; and, 
when I came in at breakfast-time, I had an 
appetite of which I was almost ashamed, 
and which greatly delighted my hosts. 

“ One day, in one of my morning excur- 
sions, I met a young girl of thirteen or 
fourteen, who held in her hand an enor- 
mous bunch of wild flowers. Without 
being what is called beautiful, nor even 
pretty, this child had in her countenance 
something sympathetic which interested 
one. Her eyes especially had an expres- 
sion of remarkable sweetness and intelli- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 49 

gence. Her dress, simple, but very neat, 
was that of the workwomen of the coun- 
try, who employ themselves in sewing, 
washing, etc., but do not work in the fields. 
Her hands, white and carefully washed, 
showed that she was only employed at in- 
door work. 

- In passing me, she courtesied, and I 
hastened to return her salute, saying : 

“ ‘ Good-morning, my child ! ’ Then I 
immediately added : ‘ Dear me ! What a 
splendid bouquet you have there ! What 
will you do with all these flowers ? ’ 

‘‘ ‘ They are to ornament the Blessed 
Virgin’s altar, madame.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! very good. It is you, then, who 
have charge of that ? In that case, I com- 
pliment you on it, for I have already re- 
marked that the altar is decorated with a 
great deal of taste.’ 

“ ‘ O madame, I am not the only one. 
Sister Euphrasia very often helps me, and 
sometimes one or two of my companions.’ 

‘‘ ‘ You cannot do better, my child,’ said 
I, ‘ than to consecrate some of your time 
to the honor of the Blessed Virgin. When 
one loves to decorate her altars, one is dis- 


50 


Lucille ; or, 


posed to love her, to pray to her, to imi- 
tate her ; and she hears with more readiness 
her devoted servants than those who 
neglect to honor her. Therefore my child, 
I am sure that the Blessed Virgin will hear 
your prayers, and convinced that she will. 
I beg you to say, whilst you decorate her 
altar, a Hail Mary for me ; and, that you 
may not forget my request, accept this 
blessed medal in remembrance of me.’ 

“ So saying, I gave her a little silver 
medal of Our Lady of Victory (Notre 
Dame des Victoires). She took it, blush- 
ing, and promised that she would pray for 
me ; and we separated, she going to the vil- 
lage, and I to La Souvaliere, the name 
which Mr. de Souval had given to his resi- 
dence. 

“ At breakfast, I spoke of this meeting. 

“ ‘ Ah ! it is little Lucille,’ cried Madame 
de Souval. ‘ She is the phoenix of our neigh- 
borhood, and I know not how it is that I 
have not spoken to you of her before. 
When she tells you she is assisted by others 
in decorating the Blessed Virgin’s altar, it 
is pure modesty on her part. Yes ; she is 
helped about as much as the organist is by 


The Young Flower-Maker. 51 

the blower, as a skilful painter is by a 
dealer in paints.’ 

“ ‘ Explain yourself,’ said I, interrupting 
Madame de Souval. * I have, indeed, seen 
the chapel and altar of the Virgin, which 
appeared to me decorated with considerable 
taste, but I have remarked nothing extra- 
ordinary which justifies the comparisons 
of which you make use.’ 

“ ^ Well, go there again ; examine it more 
clos,ely than you have done ; you will soon 
discover something which will surprise you, 
and then I shall give you the explanation 
which you ask.’ 

“ ‘ What you say puzzles me,’ replied I ; 
‘ so, immediately after breakfast, I am going 
back to visit the Virgin’s altar.’ 

“ ‘ I will go with you,’ said Madame Sou- 
val, so that I can immediately explain the 
enigma, for without that you will probably 
not guess it.’ 

“As soon as Madame Souval was ready, 
we repaired to the church. At that hour 
there was no one there, and I could lei- 
surely examine the floral decorations of the 
Virgin’s altar. There was a profusion of 
flowers, but no confusion, for everything 


52 


Lucille ; or, 


was arranged with order and with perfect 
taste ; only I remarked that the number of 
garlands, vases, and wreaths was much 
greater than usual, and I observed this to 
Madame Souval. 

“‘You have forgotten, then,’ answered 
she, ‘ that to-day is the 30th of April, and 
that to-morrow, or rather, this very evening, 
commence the exercises of the month of 
May.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! it is true,’ replied I ; ‘ I had not 
thought of it, or rather, I did not think 
that this pious custom was in use here.’ 

“ ‘ Well, you were mistaken, and you can 
convince yourself that the month of May 
is celebrated here, if not with as much 
pomp, at least with as much and even 
more fervor than in your fine churches in 
Paris.’ 

“ ‘ I do not doubt it, judging even by 
these preparations ; but what surprises me 
is that, if the care of these decorations is 
confided solely, as you tell me, to that 
young girl whom I met this morning, she 
can supply this want, which must be re- 
newed, so to say, every day.’ . 

“ ‘ Yet she supplies it ; but examine those 


The Young Flower-Maker. 53 


flowers closely, and you will understand 
perhaps how she manages to do it.' 

‘‘ I went nearer ; I even took in my hand 
four vases of white roses placed on the first 
shelf of the altar, and I perceived with 
surprise that two of them were filled with 
natural flowers, and the two others with 
artificial. This discovery put me on the way ; 
I likewise examined the other flowers which 
were within reach, and I soon discovered 
that most of the flowers were artificial. All 
the wreaths were formed of them, and the 
beautiful crown on the Virgin’s head must 
also have been a work of art, for it was 
composed of orange buds and blossoms, 
which were not yet in bloom in that neigh- 
borhood. 

“ This examination ended, I said to 
Madame Souval : ‘ Oh ! now I perfectly 
understand what puzzled me so much at 
first. The principal part of the decora- 
tions, what I call the foundation, is formed 
of artificial flowers, which, once put in their 
place, are never disturbed ; as for the rest, 
it is composed of natural flowers, which are 
carefully assorted and mixed with the arti- 
ficial ones ; this is a very simple matter. 


54 


Lucille ; or, 


which demands only a little care and atten- 
tion in the choice of flowers, but which 
does not require so much labor as it would 
require to renew all the flowers nearly every 
day.' 

“ ‘ What you say,’ answered Madame de 
Souval, ‘ is perfectly true ; but how did 
you like the artificial flowers ? ’ 

‘ They appeared to me very well made, 
so much so that at first they deceived me ; 
but there is nothing surprising in that ; I 
have often seen them yet more perfect in 
Paris.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! I am not speaking of Paris, but in 
a simple village like this, have you ever seen 
any such ? ’ 

‘‘ ^ What ! do you mean to say that these 
flowers were manufactured in this village ? 
In that case, I admit that you possess skil- 
ful flower artists.’ 

“‘Well, yes, these flowers have been 
made here, not by flower-makers, but by 
one, and that is the little fairy whom you 
met this morning.’ 

“ ‘ How ! ’ cried I, ‘ that child has done 
this beautiful work ! — but who, then, gave 
her lessons in this art ? ’ 


The Young Flower-Maker. 55 


“You see, young ladies, I asked my 
friend the same question that Anais asked 
me some time ago, and she gave me the 
same answer that I gave then — that this 
young girl had never had teachers, and had 
learned by herself alone almost all that she 
knew. More and more surprised, I went 
back to make a new examination of the 
work of the little fairy ^ as Madame de 
Souval called her. I soon discovered that 
she used with much intelligence and ad- 
dress the various tissues which professional 
flower-makers use, such as cambric, cotton 
gauze, muslin, lawn, etc. I observed, be- 
sides, a certain number of flowers manu- 
factured in silver tissue, and colored with a 
brush in such a manner as to render the 
imitation perfect ; but it was also easy to 
see that she had spent much time at her 
work, doubtless for want of knowing the 
means and possessing the tools necessary 
to shorten the work and make it more re- 
gular. It was also easy to see that her 
petals were not cut out with a cutting 
machine, and that she had to shape them 
with her scissors, a much longer and more 
difficult process. The same might be said 


56 


Lucille ; or, 


of her leaves, the veins of which were 
traced with a pincers, which rendered them 
less marked than if she had had a gattfroir^ 
the use of which she probably did not know. 
But these slight imperfections only served 
to show the courage, patience, force of 
will, and perseverance which it must have 
cost the poor child to surmount obstacles 
which would have discouraged thousands 
and thousands of others in her place, and 
to reach the surprising degree of perfection 
which she had attained. These reflections, 
which I instantly made, gave me a high idea 
of the remarkable qualities which this 
young girl must possess, and inspired me 
at the same time with a lively desire to 
know her. Madame de Souval, to whom I 
communicated my thoughts and my de- 
sire, hastened to offer to conduct me to the 
young artist’s home, saying that a better 
acquaintance with her would give me a still 
better opinion of the child than that which 
I had already formed. 

“ In a few minutes we had reached the 
dwelling of the young flower-maker. 

“ ‘ Good-day, Father Michaud,’ said 
Madame de Souval, as she went in, to an 


The Young Flower-Maker. 57 


old man sitting in an arm-chair, where he 
seemec^ to be kept by some infirmity ; 
‘ how are you to-day, my good man ? ’ 

“ ‘ Always the same, my dear lady ; al- 
ways helpless, as usual.’ 

‘‘ ‘ And your wife. Mother Michaud — is 
her health still good ? ’ 

“ ‘ Thank God, it is quite enough for me 
to be sick in the house ; what would be- 
come of us if she weore to take sick ? ’ 

“ ‘ Well, we must only hope that this 
misfortune will not befall you in any case ; 
if the good God sent you that other trial, 
you would still have Lucille to take care 
of you.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Ah ! madame, Heaven preserve us 
from such a misfortune ! for I know the 
poor child’s heart — she would kill herself 
taking care of us ; even now, if she were 
allowed, she would take the whole care of 
me upon herself, to. spare my wife the 
trouble ; judge of what it would be if she 
had us both on her hands ! ’ 

“ ‘ That, indeed, proves the goodness of 
her heart ; but. Father Michaud, it also 
must be said that she would be very un- 
grateful if, after all you have done for her, 


58 


Lucille; or, 


after having been received by you, and 
treated as your child, when all her relatives 
had abandoned her, she did not testify the 
most lively gratitude to you.’ 

“ ‘Ah! madame, the dear child owes us 
nothing ; it is rather we who are indebted 
to her, for the blessing of the good God 
came with her into our house. The fact is 
that we had always been very straitened 
before we took LuciMe, so much so that, 
by working hard, both my wife and I, we 
had a great deal of trouble in making both 
ends meet ; well, I do not know how it is, 
since we have taken this child we have suc- 
ceeded better, the seasons have been better, 
and then, I do not blush to say that many 
worthy people have come to our aid.’ 

“ In saying these words. Father Michaud 
looked at Madame de Souval as if he were 
going to mention her name ; but if, accord- 
ing to his own expression, he would not 
blush to tell it, she would have blushed to 
hear it ; and an almost imperceptible sign 
imposed silence on the old man, who con- 
tinued thus : 

“ ‘ Since then, we have never been to say 
poor ; and for five months, during which the 


The Young Flower-Maker. 59 


rheumatism has rendered me incapable of 
doing any work, we have wanted for no- 
thing.’ 

“ ‘ You are right, Father Michaud, to at- 
tribute the blessing of God to the good 
action which you performed ; so much the 
more, that you were far from suspecting 
then that any advantage would result from 
it for you, and that every one dissuaded 
you from this act of charity as being too 
great a burden in your position. Now, my 
good man, let us speak of other things. 
Here is a lady friend of mine who desires 
to make the acquaintance of your little 
Lucille : is she in her room at pre- 
sent ? ’ 

“‘Yes, madame ; and you will excuse 
me for not being able to bring you there ; 
but Marguerite, my wife, will be in very 
soon, and she will find the little one, or 
bring you to her room.’ 

“ ‘ It is needless, good Father Michaud ; it 
is not the first time I have paid Lucille a 
visit, and I will take upon myself to intro- 
duce my friend.’ 

“ Madame de Souval immediately made 
me a sign, and we went up a little dark 


6o 


Lucille ; or, 


staircase, which led to Lucille’s room, or, 
if you will, studio. 

“ It was not unintentionally that Ma- 
dame de Souval had begun before me the 
Conversation which she had just held with 
Father Michaud. As she wanted to let me 
judge of Lucille’s talent by making me ex- 
amine some specimens of her work in the 
chapel, she also wished to make known to 
me, by the mouth of that infirm old man, 
the qualities of her heart and her social 
position. It was another motive to interest 
me in her. When we entered her room, 
which, as I have said, served for a studio, 
she and a young girl of her own age v/ere 
occupied in picking a quantity of flowers 
heaped up on the table. On perceiving 
us, she rose hastily, and came to meet us, 
blushing. Madame de Souval kissed her 
on the forehead, saying : 

‘‘ ‘ Good-morning, my little Lucille ; here 
is a lady, an intimate friend of mine, who 
desires to make your acquaintance ; but- it 
is already half done, I think, for you met 
this morning.’ 

‘‘ ‘ Yes,’ answered I, ‘ we h^ve met, and I 
even charged mademoiselle with a commis- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 6i 


sion, and I wish to know if she has per- 
formed it.’ 

“^Yes, madame/ answered she, casting 
down her eyes, ^ and I even said my whole 
rosary for the intention of the person who 
made me a present of this pretty medal.’ 

And she at the same time showed the 
medal which I had given her in the morn- 
ing, hung round her neck. 

“ ‘ In that case,’ answered I, ‘ it is I who 
am now under an obligation. I shall try 
to discharge it when we are better ac- 
quainted. I am disposed to take the same 
interest in you as my friend Madame de 
Souval, and I hope that you will respond 
by the same confidence and the same affec- 
tion.’ 

“ ‘ My dear child,’ then said Madame de 
Souval, ‘to justify the interest which my 
friend takes in you, will you let her see 
some specimens of your work? She 
knows that you show a talent for the 
making of artificial flowers ; she came with 
the intention of giving you some encou- 
ragement, and perhaps also some advice 
which would be of advantage to you.’ 

“ Then, without showing any false shame. 


62 


Lucille ; or, 


nor a too marked eagerness, but with charm- 
ing modesty, she spread out before me her 
whole collection of flowers, finished or in 
course of formation. I examined them all 
with the most scrupulous attention, prais- 
ing unreservedly all that was good, making 
remarks on those that were more or less 
imperfect, and pointing out the means of 
perfecting them. Unfortunately, most of 
the imperfections which I pointed out pro- 
ceeded from a want of suitable tools. The 
poor child had, in fact, no other necessary 
tools than the scissors of different sizes, and 
two pairs of pincers of which Madame de 
Souval had made her a present. I will 
also add, a frame for working, which was 
nothing more than an old embroidery 
frame, given by another lady of the neigh- 
borhood. But she had neither figuring- 
irons, nor mandrels to trace, nor presses — 
instruments quite indispensable to artificial- 
flower makers. 

‘‘ In spite of this deficiency of tools, she 
succeeded admirably in the preparation of 
the paper and tissues of which she made 
use ; for she could not easily procure these 
articles ready prepared, which are found 


The Young Flower-Maker. 63 


only in large cities. As for colors, she had 
learned in a book which had been lent her, 
* Le Manuel du Fleuriste ' — Flower-Maker’s 
Manual — I think, the use of carmine, indigo, 
saffron, India-ink, for the composition of 
red, blue, yellow, black, and the means of 
obtaining the other colors by the mixture 
of the three first. In this branch, one of 
the most difficult in the flower-maker’s art, 
she had admirably succeeded, thanks to her 
taste and intelligence. 

“ For the making of stems there was yet 
much to be said. She often used thin 
flexible wicker sticks, and sometimes even 
rushes. I made her understand how fragile 
and wanting in consistency and solidity 
these materials were ; that it would be 
better to use steel or brass wire, which has 
been found advantageous, and which is now 
alone in use. She answered that she knew 
that perfectly, but that the difficulty of 
procuring what was suitable was for her 
the same as procuring prepared tissues 
and papers. Finally, I observed to her 
that in cottoning her stems she did not 
take care to increase the layers of cotton 
at various distances to make it slope, and to 


64 


Lucille. 


produce the axils of the leaves, the buds 
and knots, with which the stems should be 
furnished. 

“She listened to my observations with 
unremitting attention ; when she did not 
understand, she asked for an explanation,* 
which I hastened to give her. At length, 
after a visit of at least an hour, we retired. 
When returning with us, she thanked me 
warmly for the lessons and advice which I 
had given her, and she thanked Madame 
de Souval for having procured her so use- 
ful an acquaintance. 

“ Before continuing to speak to you of the 
connection which I have had since this 
first interview with Lucille Vuillemot, for 
such was her name, it is necessary that I 
should give you some details of her life, 
previous to the period when I made her ac- 
quaintance. 




CHAPTER IV. 

HOW LUCILLE BECAME A FLOWER- 
MAKER. 

UCILLE VUILLEMOT be- 
longed to a respectable family 
of Orleans, which by succes- 
sive misfortunes had been ut- 
terly ruined. Some time before the last 
calamity which befell the family, Madame 
Vuillemot, a young woman of twenty-eight, 
of a frail and sickly constitution, came with 
her daughter to spend the spring in the vil- 
lage where I found the latter. The physician 
had recommended a residence in the coun- 
try during the fine weather as favorable to 
her health, and especially to that of her 
child, a fragile and delicate creature, who 
needed inhaling the pure air of the country 
to strengthen her. Madame Vuillemot had 
hired a room in the only inn of the village ; 
she established herself there with her child ; 



66 


Lucille ; or, 


and every morning she went with her little 
Lucille to drink a good cup of fresh milk 
at the house of Mother Marguerite Michaud, 
whose milk was justly noted for its excel- 
lent quality. It was also Mother Michaud 
who supplied the fresh eggs for the break- 
fast of the mother and daughter ; thence 
came the name of foster-mother, which the 
little Lucille gave her at this period, and 
which she still continues to give her. 

“ Madame Vuillemot had only lived in the 
country for five or six weeks at most, when 
she received all at once the most disas- 
trous news. Even when leaving the city, 
she had already felt a presentiment of some 
misfortune, but, however sad had been, the 
presentiment she had, the reality even sur- 
passed the imagination. Enormous fail- 
ures, considerable losses, and blow after 
blow repeated, had entirely ruined her hus- 
band, and, to crown her misfortunes, he 
himself, stricken by so many crushing blows, 
had died suddenly ; some said of apoplexy, 
others would have it that he committed 
suicide. This fact has never been ex- 
plained ; however, there may have been 
some foundation to this last supposition. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 67 

for Madame Vuillemot received from her 
husband himself a letter which announced 
the loss of his fortune, and probably his 
resolution not to survive it ; but this letter 
must undoubtedly have been destroyed by 
the poor woman, so as not to leave to her 
child the melancholy proof of her father’s 
deplorable end. 

“ Unhappily, Madame Vuillemot’s health 
was too feeble to resist such shocks. She 
fell sick with typhoid fever, followed by 
brain fever, which in a few days brought 
her to the grave. From the very begin- 
ning of her illness, a sort of paralysis took 
possession of her senses ; she seemed to 
understand nothing that was passing with- 
in or around her ; even the presence of her 
child, whom she loved so passionately, ex- 
cited in her neither joy nor emotion, nor 
fear for what would become of her in the 
future. Oh ! if she had enjoyfed the ful- 
ness of reason, if she had understood in 
what a situation her child would be placed, 
the most cruel anguish would have accom- 
panied the last moments of her life; but 
Providence, which had designs on the 
child, doubtless wished to spare her mother 


68 


Lucille ; or, 


this mental suffering in her agony, by tak- 
ing from her, with the knowledge of her 
condition, the fears with which the future 
of her beloved daughter would naturally 
have inspired her. 

The poor child, doubly orphaned, was 
herself too young to understand the desti- 
tute condition in which she was left by the 
death of her parents and the loss of her 
fortune. The little money which her 
mother had left, joined to that produced 
by the sale of her effects, hardly sufficed 
to pay the expenses of her last illness, her 
burial, and the amount of the landlady’s 
bill. No one in the village had known 
Madame Vuillemot ; no one accompanied 
the funeral to the church and to the ceme- 
tery but Mother Michaud, who showed a 
lively sorrow for her death. 

“ On returning from the burial, the good 
Marguerite went to the inn to learn what 
they intended to do with the child of the 
deceased. 

‘‘‘And what do you wish me to do?’ 
said the landlady roughly ; ‘ I have no 
means of keeping her; I have my children 
to feed and to clothe, and I cannot burden 


The Young Flower-Maker. 69 


myself with those of other people. I have 
spoken to the mayor and to the priest that 
they may rid me of her ; they told me that 
they would write to Orleans to try and 
have her placed with the Providence 
orphans, and whilst waiting they told me 
to keep her, and the priest has promised to 
pay me for her board until they have found 
a place for her.’ 

“ ‘ Bah ! Madame Colin,’ answered Mar- 
guerite ; ‘ the food for a child of that age 
is very little, and you could have very well 
taken charge of her without much expense 
to yourself.’ 

‘‘ ‘ It is easy for you to talk. Mother 
Michaud,’ replied the landlady. ‘ Well, if 
you think that one child more in a house 
does not increase the expense, take her 
yourself; I will give her to you willingly, 
as well as the payment which the priest is 
to give me.’ 

“ ‘ I would take you at your word, 
Madame Colin, only that I have first to 
consult my husband ; but if he consents, 
as I hope, although we are very poor, I 
would want no payment neither from the 
priest nor any one else.’ 


70 


Lucille ; or, 


‘ That is your business, Mother Mi- 
chaud every one attends to his own affairs 
as he thinks best.’ 

“ Here the conversation of the two women 
was interrupted by the entrance of Lucille, 
who, on perceiving Mother Michaud, ran 
crying to throw herself into her arms, say- 
ing : ‘ Good-day, good foster-mother.’ 

“ ‘ Good-day, my child,’ answered Mother 
Marguerite, embracing her and watering 
her face with her tears. 

“ After some moments’ silence. Mother 
Marguerite, who had taken the child on 
her knees, said to her : ‘ Would you like to 
come and live with me? You can have as 
much good milk and fresh eggs as you 
like.’ 

“‘Will mamma not come there too? 
Madame Colin told me that she was gone 
away far, very far, and that I shall never 
see her again . . . never . . . Is that true?’ 
added she sobbing. 

“ ‘ My child, you will see her again some 
time, if you are very good. Your mother 
is gone to heaven. She is with the good 
God and the Blessed Virgin, and she is 
praying for you, and if you on your side 


The Young Flower-Maker. 71 

love the good God and the good Virgin 
Mary, if you pray to them every morning 
and night, you will find your mother with 
them in due time.’ 

“ ‘ Is it the prayers mamma taught me 
that I must say: “Our Father,” “Hail 
Mary,” and “ I believe in God ” ? I know 
no others.’ 

“ ‘ They are enough at your age, my 
child ; when you are older, you will learn 
others.’ 

“‘Alas! since mamma was sick and 
always staid in bed, she did not make me 
say my prayers any more, and I fear I have 
forgotten them. If I went to live with you, 
would you teach me them again ? ’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! yes, my child, and I would take 
great care to make you say them every 
morning and night. Well, will you come at 
once ? I will bring you with me.’ 

“ ‘ But will Madame Colin let me go ? ’ 

“ ‘ I will take care of that,’ answered Mo- 
ther Michaud ; and taking the child by the 
hand, she went to find Madame Colin, who 
had left the room where Marguerite was 
when Lucille came in, and had gone back 
to the kitchen. “I am taking the child,’ 


72 


Lucille ; or, 


said she, as she passed ; ‘ it is possible that 
I may not bring her back to you. In any 
case, do not trouble yourself about her.’ 

“ ‘ Oh ! that is indeed the least of my 
cares,’ answered the landlady ; ‘ only, if you 
keep her, inform the mayor and the priest 
of it.’ 

“ ‘ I will not fail to do so.’ 

“ ‘ In that case, good-evening. Mother 
Michaud, and good luck to you.’ 

“ On entering her house. Marguerite pre- 
sented the child to her husband, saying : 

“ ‘ Pierre, we often used to wish to have 
a child ; well, here is one that the good 
God sends us in our old days when we had 
no hope of having one. Do you accept it ? ’ 

“ ‘ My goodness ! ’ said Pierre, ‘ it is little 
Lucille, the daughter of the poor lady who 
has just died. But think of it. Marguerite, 
she is the daughter of rich parents. She 
has doubtless some relatives who will claim 
her, and will not leave her with poor pea- 
sants like us.’ 

“ ^ If - she is claimed by relatives who 
have the right, we will give her to them, 
that is all; but, meantime, she has no one 
to look after her.’ 


The Young Flower-Maker. 73, 

“ Then she told him of her interview with, 
the landlady, and what she had learned. 

“ ‘ In that case, you did well/ said Father- 
Michaud, ‘to take the child; and I will: 
go and inform the mayor and the priest 
that we will keep her with us until she is 
claimed by her family.’ 

“ The mayor praised Father Michaud 
for his determination ; at the same time ob- 
serving that it was, perhaps, imprudent on 
his part, with his small means, to take upon 
himself a charge which might some time be- 
come a burden too heavy for his strength. 
The priest warmly thanked his parishioner 
for the work of charity which he had un- 
dertaken, and encouraged him to persevere, 
assuring him that it would draw down the 
blessing of Heaven on his family. 

“ It was thus that Lucille Vuillemot was. 
installed, at first conditionally, and it may 
be said afterwards finally, with the Mi- 
chauds ; for it is ten years since this hap- 
pened, and none of her family have come 
to claim the child, although she has near 
relatives who are very rich, and who are 
not unaware of her position with simple 
peasants. 


74 


Lucille ; or, 


“ Besides, it would have been difficult 
for the relatives of whom I speak to give 
Lucille a better education than she received 
from her adopted parents. Doubtless her 
instruction would have been more brilliant ; 
they would have made her, perhaps, an 
excellent musician ; it may be also that, 
giving another direction to the artistic taste 
which seems innate in her, they would have 
succeeded in making her a skilful painter, 
capable of making a good picture instead 
of a simple vase of flowers ; but I doubt 
if that religious sentiment, that lively faith, 
that love of God which penetrates her 
heart, elevates her soul, and is reflected in 
her looks, her attitudes, and in her ges- 
tures, would have been developed as it has 
been in the village. 

“ Let us hasten to add that her adopted 
parents would not have been sufficient for 
this task ; but they were well assisted by 
the Sisters of the Presentation of Our 
Lady, who, in that parish, had charge of 
the school for young girls. The good Sis- 
ters soon remarked Lucille’s good dispo- 
sitions, and they did their best to cultivate 
them. Sister Euphrasia, who herself be- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 75 


longs to a very good family, and who has 
received a brilliant education, became much 
attached to the young orphan ; she taught 
her all the branches which she thought use- 
ful in her condition, and it was she who 
first encouraged her taste for the fabrica- 
tion of artificial flowers. As she herself 
had only a very imperfect idea of that art, 
she procured for Lucille several books 
which treat of this subject, and furnished 
her with the first materials necessary for 
her work. 

“ Sister Euphrasia often told me how, 
from her earliest childhood, Lucille had 
shown a passion for flowers. This taste was 
mingled with a sort of religious sentiment, 
or rather arose from it. ‘ In our neighbor- 
hood,’ said Sister Euphrasia to me, ‘ the 
villagers are ignorant of the names which 
science or even the world gives to flowers. 
For them, almost all flowers are conse- 
crated to the Blessed Virgin, and they 
give them names which remind them of 
their gracious Patroness, and are emblem- 
atical of her virtues. Thus, the pretty 
flower called by botanists Myosotis, For- 
get-me-not by the English, and ‘‘ Ne 


76 


Lucille ; or, 


m’obliez pas ” by the French, has received in 
our neighborhood the name “ L’CEil de la 
Vierge,” Virgin’s Eye ; another is called 
“ Les Souliers de la Vierge,” The Virgin’s 
Slippers; another, her girdle, her veil, 
etc. ; not to speak of that mysterious fibre 
whose origin is not yet well explained by 
the learned, and which every one, in the 
city as well as in the country, knows by the 
name of “ La Fil de la Vierge,” Virgin’s 
Thread.’ To return to Lucille : when she 
went out in the fields, to the edge of the 
forest, with her foster-mother, to help her 
to pull up grass for her cow, she put aside 
all the flowers which bear the names I have 
just mentioned, then she made wreaths of 
them, which she placed around a little 
statue of the Blessed Virgin which you 
may have seen in her room. A little later, 
she had read, I know not in what legend, 
the history of the little shepherdess who 
took pleasure in placing every day on the 
statue of Mary, in an old chapel, a crown 
of flowers simple and modest like her life. 
She never once forgot her simple offering. 
When she was on her death-bed, the Virgin 
was seen appearing to her with a crown of 


The Young Flower-Maker, 77 

white roses, which she herself wished to 
place on the brow of her gentle servant, 
then took with her her pure soul on her re- 
turn to heaven. 

“ The reading of this legend gave Lucille 
the idea of also offering every day to the 
Blessed Virgin a wreath of flowers which 
had been culled and arranged by herself. 
During the summer and autumn, she faith- 
fully kept her promise, and every morning 
brought to the Virgin’s altar the wreath at 
which she had worked sometimes part of 
the night. But she was much troubled 
when the season of flowers was past, and 
she saw herself obliged to discontinue her 
daily offering. It was then that she 
thought of replacing the natural flov/ers by 
artificial ones, and this thought was no 
sooner conceived than she went to work to 
carry it out. 

‘‘You see, young ladies,” said Mile. Cor- 
mier, iiere interrupting her story, “ that 
there is a striking coincidence in this part 
of my little Lucille’s history and the legend 
of the knight Harnald which Celine re- 
lated to us. But in this there is nothing 
surprising; the same causes produce the_ 


78 


Lucille ; or, 


same effects. Lucille, who probably did 
not know the legend of the knight Har- 
nald, prevented, like him, not from fulfilling 
a vow, for she had not made any, but from 
a simple act of piety, which had become a 
sweet habit with her, thought of employ- 
ing the same means as he did to satisfy her 
devotion. 

“It was then that she conceived the pro- 
ject of making artificial flowers to replace 
those which nature refused her. Mother 
Michaud had carefully preserved under a 
glass shade her wedding bouquet, which 
was composed of orange flowers, white 
roses, white lilacs, all mounted on stems as 
white as the flowers, and garnished with 
silver leaves of an odd and impossible form. 
Lucille asked her adopted mother’s per- 
mission to examine this bouquet. Mother 
Marguerite could refuse nothing to her 
adopted child; only she recommended her, 
in confiding it to her, to take the greatest 
care of it. Lucille promised, and kept her 
word. However, she found means, with- 
out in any way altering the precious bou- 
quet, to find out how it was made. She 
discovered the nature of the tissues and 


The Young Flower-Maker. 79 

materials used in forming the stems, flow- 
ers, and leaves, and she understood that 
she could, with the same materials, obtain 
the same result. 

“ She at first commenced with the sim- 
plest flowers. She groped her way for a 
long time. She destroyed her first at- 
tempts, which were far from satisfactory ; 
then she began again, and by dint of per- 
severance she at last succeeded in making 
something which appeared to her passable. 
Until then she had worked secretly. At 
length, when she thought she had suc- 
ceeded, she showed her work to Sister 
Euphrasia. ‘ This attempt,’ said the good 
Sister, from whom I have learned all that I 
tell you, ^ was undoubtedly very imperfect ; 
but it displayed a surprising aptitude and a 
real talent.’ She could exclaim, like the 
painter: ^ And I, too, am a flower-maker.’ 

From this moment. Sister Euphrasia 
encouraged Lucille to persevere in the 
career which she had herself opened to her, 
and she endeavored by every means in her 
power to smooth the first difficulties for her. 
In spite of the imperfection of these first 
lessons, the girl made rapid, I might say 


8o 


Lucille ; or, 


marvellous, progress for her age. She was 
then scarcely twelve years old. Soon, 
thanks to her, the Chapel of the Blessed 
Virgin was decorated in all seasons, in such 
a manner as to excite the admiration of the 
people of the village and of strangers who 
came to visit there. From that time, many 
ladies who came to spend the summer there 
or in the neighborhood took an interest in 
the young artist, whom they called the 
little phoenix — a name given her by Madame 
de Souval. Every one wanted to have 
flowers of her making, and generously re- 
warded her labor. And thus this child, who, 
when the idea of making artificial flowers 
occurred to her, only thought of doing hom- 
age to the Blessed Virgin, now found in it 
a lucrative employment which enabled her 
to aid her adopted parents. Let us add 
that the interest inspired by the young or- 
phan was in part extended to the Michauds ; 
that a kind and delicate solicitude provided 
for all their wants, and largely rewarded 
them for the disinterestedness which they 
had shown in adopting, notwithstand- 
ing their poverty, the poor deserted child. 
Thus, Father Michaud was right when he 


The Young Flower-Maker. 8i 


said that the blessing of God had come into 
their house with that child. On her side, 
Mistress Colin, the hotel-keeper, often said : 
‘ What luck those Michauds have ! . . . 
Ah ! if I had known, I would not have let 
them take that little one ; but who could 
foresee what has happened ? ’ 

Many people, my children, reason like 
Mistress Colin, and do good only when they 
can foresee the advantages which they may 
derive from it. 




CHAPTER V. 

LUCILLE’S FIRST JOURNEY TO PARIS. 

LL these details which I have 
given you concerning Lucille 
Vuillemot’s early years were 
related to me during my first 
residence with Madame de Souval by that 
lady, by Sister Euphrasia, by Mother Mi- 
chaud, and by the orphan herself, whose 
confidence I had soon gained ; she opened 
her heart to me with a frankness and sim- 
plicity which delighted me. 

‘‘ I often went to visit her in her work- 
room, and she eagerly listened to the ad- 
vice which I gav9 her. Often, too, she 
came herself to me early in the morning, 
and we took a charming walk in the coun- 
try, so rich, so splendid, at that season of 
the year. The so richly varied flowers of 
Touraine were then in all their splendor. 
I profited by these excursions to give 




The Young Flower-Maker. 83 


Lucille some ideas of botany ; for the poor 
child made flowers naturally and, so to say, 
instinctively. I easily brought her to un- 
derstand that, to make artificial flowers 
well, an indispensable condition was to 
know the various organs of natural flowers ; 
for how can we imitate faithfully what we 
know imperfectly ? 

“ This study gave a special charm to our 
walks ; the curious research, the abundance 
of flowers, the study of their properties, 
the observation of the habits of plants — all 
was interesting, all became a pleasure. 
Sometimes my young companion, after 
having heard me explain the mechanism 
of a flower, describe its origin, its growth, 
its successive developments, raised her 
eyes to heaven, and exclaimed with enthu- 
siasm : ‘ O my God ! how beautiful are 
thy works ! And is it not presumptuous of 
me, a weak and ignorant creature, to seek 
to imitate them? ’ 

“.‘No, my child,’ said I; ‘there is no 
presumption in that, for you have no vain 
pretensions to reproduce these works with 
perfect exactness, to which all the genius 
and science of man could never attain. 


84 


Lucille ; or, 


Not only is it permitted, but it is laudable, 
to seek to imitate the works of the Creator 
as much as it is given to our weakness to 
do so ; it is a homage which we render to 
his infinite power, and it is this desire, 
which God has himself placed in the heart 
of man, that has given rise to painting, to 
sculpture — in a word, to all the imitative 
arts/ 

“ Usually on our return from these walks, 
sometimes before setting out, we heard 
Mass, according to the hour, earlier or 
later, when it was said ; for the priest, 
being the only one to attend his parish, 
was sometimes forced to say Mass earlier 
or later, according as circumstances per- 
mitted, but we always managed to miss it 
as seldom as possible. Often, too, after 
the walk, I went to take a cup of milk with 
good Mother Marguerite, and spent a half- 
hour with her and her husband conversing 
of their adopted child, whom these good 
people loved with at least as great tender- 
ness as if she had been their real child. 
Lucille was not present, as you may well 
suppose, at these conversations. As soon 
as she had taken her cup of milk, she went 


The Young Flower-Maker. 85 

up to her room to set to w@rk again, or to 
perform some act of devotion which she 
had not time to finish at church ; for she 
was even then, and is to-day, an example 
of piety. Every time that I assisted at 
Mass with her, I was edified by her deport- 
ment and the fervor with which she prayed. 

“ When I was entirely recovered, and the 
time of my departure drew near, the poor 
child became very sad. She told me that 
she could not accustom herself to the idea 
of not seeing me every day ; on my side, I 
confess that I felt sincere regret at parting 
from her. At length an idea occurred to 
me of a means by which we might remain 
together at least a little longer ; this was 
to bring her to Paris with me, and to make 
her take from the best flower-^makers the 
lessons necessary to perfect her in her 
art. 

“ Another would have welcomed this 
project with enthusiasm ; to see Paris, for a 
young provincial girl, is one of her fairest 
dreams. When I spoke of it to Lucille, I 
saw her countenance at first light up with 
pleasure at the thought of accompanying 
me, of acquiring new knowledge, and of 


86 


Lucille ; or, 


making new progress in her art ; but soon 
the idea of going away from her adopted 
parents, whom she had never left for a day 
since she was four years old, of leaving that 
beautiful country, of breaking off the sweet 
habits which she had formed, clouded her 
brow and suppressed the animation of her 
face/ 

‘ Oh ! yes,’ said she, sighing deeply ; 
‘ what you propose pleases me very much ; 
but what would become, were I gone, of 
my poor foster father and mother ? They 
would be sick with grief, and I would al- 
ways be thinking of them with anxiety. 
Then who will take care of the Blessed 
Virgin’s altar, for I have now the entire 
charge of it ? . . . All things considered,’ 
added she, after some moments’ silence, 
^ there are too many obstacles to this jour- 
ney, pleasant as it would be for me, and it 
is much better that I should give it up.’ 

“ ‘ But I think,’ answered I, ‘ that you 
exaggerate these obstacles. In the first 
place, your absence will be too short for it 
to grieve your parents, or that the decora- 
tion of the altar would suffer by it. I will 
take you with me, and it is agreed that 


The Young Flower-Maker. 87 

Madame de Souval, who is coming to Paris 
next month, will bring you back with her ; 
thus, on your journey, going and returning, 
you will be with some one whom you know. 
During your stay in Paris, I will place you 
with an eminent flower-maker of my ac- 
quaintance, where you will be treated as 
one of the family ; besides, I shall see you 
every day, and will see that you visit every- 
thing in Paris which could most interest 
you. Finally, my child, consider that I do 
not propose this journey as a pleasure-trip ; 
it is for your interest ; it is to acquire know- 
ledge that you can only learn in Paris that 
I wish you to make this journey. You 
have real talent ; but you are far from hav- 
ing attained perfection. The lessons and 
advice which I have been able to give you 
can have produced no other effect than to 
make you understand their insufficiency ; 
for, as I have often told you, I am not a 
professor in this art ; I am, at the most, a 
mere amateur, and a very ordinary one at 
that. You require, then, in order to per- 
fect yourself, the teaching of real professors, 
and it is only in Paris that you will find 
such ; you would, then, be wrong to lose the 


88 


Lucille ; or, 


opportunity which presents itself for you 
to receive lessons, and to give your talents 
all the perfection of which they are capa- 
ble. Reflect, my child, on what I have just 
said ; consult those persons in whom you 
have confidence ; explain to them without 
reserve the advantages which this journey 
presents to you, and the obstacles which 
you perceive to it ; then, according to your 
laudable custom, ask God and his Holy 
Mother to enlighten you ; and then let me 
know your decision.’ 

“These motives, thus presented, had 
made a deep impression on her. She ap- 
peared disposed to give me immediately an 
affirmative answer, but I insisted on her 
taking advice, and that she should wait to 
give me her answer till the time I had fixed 
upon. On my side, I apprised those per- 
sons whom I well knew ; these were the 
priest, Sister Euphrasia, and her foster- 
parents. All of them readily entered into 
my views, with the exception of Mother 
Marguerite, who could not bring herself to 
part from her child. Her husband at last 
persuaded her to hear reason, and at 
length, on the day appointed, Lucille came 


The Young Flower-Maker. 89 


joyously to announce to me that she was 
ready to accompany me. 

“ We set out next day by rail, and the 
same evening we arrived in Paris. 

“ Two days after, I took Lucille for a 
drive in Paris. We were in an open car- 
riage. We rapidly passed along the line 
of the Boulevards, Rue Royale, Place de 
la Concorde, the Champs Elysees, to the 
Arch of Triumph ; and, on our return, we 
followed the Rue de Rivoli to the H6tel 
de Ville. I took care to make her no- 
tice, as we passed, the different mon- 
uments which were on our way ; but I 
soon perceived the poor child looked 
at everything, so to say, without seeing 
anything. The noise, the tumult, the 
crowd, the thousands of carriages crossing 
each other on every side, caused her a sort 
of dizziness ; she was bewildered, and 
scarcely understood what I said to her. 
When we got home, I asked her if she had 
enjoyed the ride. 

“ ‘ I would be telling a lie,’ answered she, 
‘ if I said I enjoyed it ; I was stunned, daz- 
zled, that is all. But I enjoyed myself 
more,’ added she, sighing, ‘ in the walks 


90 


Lucille ; or, 


which we took together in the fields of 
Touraine ’ 

“ ‘ What you feel,’ said I, ‘ every one 
who has always lived in the country like- 
wise feels the first time that they come to 
Paris ; but they easily get accustomed to it.’ 

‘ Oh ! as for me,’ answered she, ‘ I do 
not think I could ever get accustomed to 
it.’ 

“ ‘ I said as much on my first visit to the 
capital, and a fortnight after I did not even 
notice the noise which has so bewildered 
you at first. But never mind, I will not 
take you again to those noisy quarters ; in 
Paris we can find solitude when we wish, 
and I will place you in a quiet part of the 
city, where you will see nothing of its 
tumult.’’ 

“ The succeeding days were employed in 
visiting some of the churches. There she 
recovered the calm of her soul in prayer. 
She admired the pomp with which divine 
service was celebrated on holydays. ‘ But,’ 
said she, ‘ I pray with more recollection in 
the simple church of our village.’ Decidedly 
I began to understand that she was not 
made for living in Paris. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 91 

“ After several days employed in making 
her somewhat acquainted with Parisian life, 
I brought her to Madame Durier, the flower- 
maker whom you saw at the exposition. I 
had known her for a long time, and had 
learned from her the little I knew of the 
art of manufacturing artificial flowers. She 
is. a woman of somewhat rough exterior, a 
little abrupt in manner, but she has an ex- 
cellent heart, and is perfectly upright, 
notwithstanding the little trick in the ex- 
orbitant price of those famous bouquets, 
occasioned by the bet of the two English- 
men. As soon as I had briefly told her 
Lucille’s story, made her acquainted with 
her good disposition, and shown some 
specimens of her skill, she appeared to take 
a lively interest in her, and told me that 
she would willingly take her as a boarder 
for a month or two, giving me her word to 
watch over her as if she were her own 
daughter. 

“ Our agreement was soon concluded. 
Lucille was installed that very day at 
Madame Durier’s house, and I returned to 
my duties at the boarding-school, after 
having promised the poor child, who cried 


92 


Lucille ; or, 


at seeing me go, to come and see her as 
often as possible, at least every second day, 
and to spend the Sundays with her. 

“ She had some difficulty in accustoming 
herself to her new kind of life ; however, 
the sight of that immense quantity of 
flowers of all kinds, finished or in process 
of fabrication, which were displayed in 
Madame Durier’s show-cases and shop, 
brought her back to the sentiment of her 
art, and the thought of perfecting herself 
in it, which had brought her to Paris. 
Madame Durier soon found in her a pupil 
as intelligent as she was docile, and became 
sincerely attached to her. Lucille made 
rapid progress, following the lessons of her 
mistress, and especially in examining the 
work and the way in which it was done by 
each workwoman. She soon understood 
the advantages of the division of work, in 
which each part was executed by certain 
workwomen, who, not doing anything else, 
arrived in their specialty at a perfection 
very hard to acquire. It was thus that the 
cutters, the markers, the finishers, consti- 
tuted so many different professions, which 
were in some sort mechanical, and which 


The Young Flower-Maker. 93 

had no other object than to spare the real 
artist, who mounted the flowers, and ar- 
ranged, in a suitable manner, the parts 
which composed them, a considerable loss 
of time which she would be obliged to spend 
in these preparations. 

“ At the end of a month, Madame Durier 
told me that Lucille was undoubtedly the 
best worker in her workroom, and that, if 
she would remain with her for a year or 
more, she would make her, at the end of 
that time, the best flower-maker in Paris. 

“ I spoke of this to Lucille the first time 
I found myself alone with her; but she 
answered me, in a tone almost frightened : 

‘ Oh ! no, no ; I will not stay here any 
longer than the time agreed upon; you 
cannot think, mademoiselle, what a great 
sacrifice I am already obliged to make ; it 
is not without praying fervently, thinking 
that every day, every minute, brings me 
nearer to the end so impatiently looked for- 
ward to, that I feel strength to bear this 
trial ; but if I had to remain here another 
year, oh ! surely, I would not live through 
it. You see, mademoiselle, I am like a 
plant torn from its native soil, and which 


94 


Lucille ; or, 


they try to transplant to another climate ; 
they may bestow every care on it, soon it 
will droop and die if they do not restore it 
to its native earth. For me, Paris is a fatal 
climate, and I long impatiently for the day 
when I can invigorate my soul, and draw 
new life from the pure air of the country, 
among our fragrant meadows, where I can 
run and jump at will with my companions.’ 

“ ‘ I v/ill not press you further,’ answered 
I, ‘ for I can imagine what is passing in your 
mind, and I would not expose you to the 
danger of home-sickness ; but it is a pity 
that your studies must be thus interrupted 
in the midst of your progress, and when, 
with a little more perseverance, you could 
arrive, according to Madame Durier, at 
being one of the first artists in Paris.’ 

“ ‘ Well, Madame Durier is mistaken. I 
have attained the greatest degree of perfec- 
tion at which I can now arrive in Paris ; I 
have learned much of which I was ignorant ; 
I can make better and quicker than I used ; 
but it is only in the country, in my own 
village, that it is possible for me to make 
use of the new knowledge which I have ac- 
quired. I must mature it in calm and soli- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 95 


tude ; here it is not possible for me to 
recollect myself for a moment. I am 
stunned by the bustle of Paris. I can 
neither work nor pray at my ease, and I 
feel that working and praying are my life.’ 

“ I imparted my conversation with Lu- 
cille to Madame Durier. The good lady 
was not made to understand such language. 
Her nature, somewhat rough, could not 
give her an idea of the refined sentiments 
of this child. All that she understood was 
that she wished to leave her, and she was 
hurt at what she called her ingratitude. 

“ ‘ Yes ! ’ said she to me, in a tone of vex- 
ation ; ‘ have regard, care, friendship for 
people ; that is how you will be rewarded 
for it. I treated that little girl as if she 
were my own child, and, at the time when 
she might be of some service to me, she 
wants to go back to her village. Let her 
go ; I will not keep her. But, besides, is it 
certain that she will return to the country ? 
Is she not rather going to some other 
maker who offers her a higher salary than 
she had hoped to gain here ? ’ 

‘ Oh ! as for that, madame, I guarantee 
that she is going back to her adopted pa- 


96 


Lucille ; or, 


rents, and that the only motive which im- 
pels her is that she cannot become accus- 
tomed to life in Paris.’ 

“ ‘ That is droll, too ; but, in a word, let us 
not beat about the bush .... See here, 
mademoiselle, I now offer to keep the girl 
as first workwoman. She will be boarded 
and lodged, and I will give her six hundred 
francs the first year, nine hundred the 
second, and always increasing three hun- 
dred francs a year up to eighteen hundred, 
if, however, be it well understood, she con- 
tinues to work well and to conduct herself 
well.’ 

“ This proposition of Madame Durier’s 
enlightened me more than all that she had 
previously said as to Lucille’s capacity and 
real talent. She had indeed counted on 
turning these talents somewhat to her own 
advantage, and this explained the vexation 
which her leaving caused her. I promised 
her to inform Lucille of this offer ; but I did 
not conceal from her, at the same time, that 
I was very doubtful of success, for I knew 
her, and, when she had really taken a reso- 
lution, it was hard to make her change her 
mind. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 97 

“ This is precisely what happened. If 
they had offered her a fortune, she would 
not hear of remaining any longer in Paris. 
Madame Durier somewhat vehemently ex- 
pressed her dissatisfaction, declaring that, 
if I had wished to use my influence with 
the young orphan, she would have accept- 
ed her offer. To avoid useless discussion, 
I made no answer, and we parted coolly 
enough. The next day, I brought Lucille 
to the hotel where Madame de Souval was 
staying, and two days after, my friend and 
her young companion returned to Tour- 
aine. 

“ She was right in saying that she needed 
to invigorate her mind in the air of the 
country, to gain new strength, and to make 
use of her new knowledge. She had brought 
from Paris a considerable and well-assorted 
quantity of fine colors, as well as all the 
articles necessary for the fabrication of 
flowers which are sold prepared. She im- 
mediately set to work, and each of her new 
productions was a real masterpiece. The 
first bouquet which she made was for the 
Blessed Virgin’s altar, the second was sent 
to me for my feast-day. She had learned 


98 


Lucille ; or, 


from Madame de Souval that my name was 
Mary, and on the eve of the Assumption 
I received her present, accompanied by a 
charming letter. 

‘‘ I could not resist my desire to let Mad- 
ame Durier see this beautiful bouquet, in 
proof that her pupil had not forgotten her 
lessons, and at the same time to read to her 
a passage from Lucille’s letter, in which she 
expressed her gratitude to that lady, and 
begged me to present her respects to her, 
and ask her to excuse her for being obliged 
to leave her so soon. 

“ As I have said, Madame Durier has an 
excellent heart. She was moved even to 
tears by Lucille’s letter, and I was con- 
vinced that she did not bear her the slight- 
est malice for what had passed. When I 
showed her the present frorh my protegee, 
as she called her, she was astonished at it. 
She examined it with the greatest atten- 
tion in its most minute details ; then she 
said to me, with unaffected sincerity : 

‘ Mademoiselle, this is a really admirable 
work, and I confess that nothing better 
could come out of my shop.’ 

“ This was my own opinion of the work ; 


The Young Flower-Maker. 99 


but I was not sorry to hear it supported 
by a more competent judge than myself. 
Madame Durier soon confirmed her opin- 
ion in a manner which, to me, was as good 
as any oath which she might take in a 
court of justice. After having examined 
the bouquet from an artistic point of view, 
she considered it from a commercial one, 
and said, ‘ Do you know, mademoiselle, 
how much this bouquet is worth ? ’ 

“ ‘ I frankly admit, madame, that I did 
not think of it ; it has for me an inestima- 
ble value, as a remembrance from a child 
whom I love very much ; as for the com- 
mercial value, I trouble myself very little 
about it.’ 

“ ‘Well, I, as a dealer, would give from 
fifty to sixty francs for a bouquet like that ; 
and, if your little protegee will supply me 
with this kind, I offer to pay her that price, 
or even more, according to the work.’ 

“ ‘ I think, madame,’ answered I, ‘ that 
this proposition will be more readily ac- 
cepted by Lucille than that of remaining 
in Paris as a workwoman. F promise this 
time to use all my influence to induce her 
to accept your offer. I will write to her 


loo Lucille ; or, 

to-day, and, in a few days, I will bring you 
the answer.’ 

“ This time we parted very good friends. 
I wrote to Lucille and to Madame de 
Souval, giving them an account of my visit 
to Madame Durier. I urged Lucille, in 
this letter, to accept Madame Durier’s offer, 
as a sure and easy means of finding a mar- 
ket for her work, and to keep up her con- 
nection with a person capable of giving her 
useful advice, of which she would for a long 
time yet have need. I wrote to Madame 
de Souval to join her entreaties to mine 
with Lucille ; then I reminded her of some- 
thing of which there had been question 
between us, but which did not appear very 
urgent at the time ; , this was to ask her 
husband to watch over the interests of the 
child and to regulate her social position. 
In fact, on the death of her father and 
mother, she had been received by the 
Michauds, who had brought her up as their 
child ; but no regular act, no consent from 
the family, had sanctioned this position. 
She had neither guardian nor acting guar- 
dian ; hence it might happen that some day 
one of her paternal or maternal relatives 


The Young Flower-Maker, ioi 

would come to claim her as their ward, and 
take the child from her adopted parents, 
which would be a mortal blow to them and 
to herself. At length the time for taking 
this measure seemed to me to have come. 
Henceforth Lucille could by her labor earn 
considerable money ; it was important that 
a disinterested and honest person should 
see to the investment of these funds, and 
consequently accept the guardianship of 
the girl — functions which Father Michaud, 
from his age, infirmities, and want of edu- 
cation, was incapable of fulfilling. It was 
then on Mr. de Souval that we had cast our 
eyes for that office, and during my stay in 
Touraine the question had already been dis- 
cussed by the pastor. Sister Euphrasia, and 
myself. To finish on this point, I will add 
in two words that things came to pass as 
we desired. The justice of the peace of the 
district officially called together a family 
council, which unanimously named Mr. de 
Souval guardian to Lucille Vuillemot. 

“ Whilst this was taking place, Lucille 
sent her first flowers to Madame Durier. 
The latter was delighted, and paid her a 
hundred and twenty francs for the first three 


102 


Lucille ; or, 


bouquets which she received, declaring that 
he would take on the same terms all that 
she would send her for the future. Lucille 
would have willingly agreed to work only 
for her ; but Mr. de Souval, her guardian, 
discovered for her other more profitable 
markets. In fact, Lucille’s work became 
more perfect, we might say, every day, and 
Madame Durier would not increase her 
prices. Things remained in this way until 
the beginning of this year. At length Lu- 
cille sent me the bouquet which you saw 
at the exposition, and Mr. de Souval at 
the same time announced to me that, if I 
offered it to Madame Durier, it must be 
only on commission, unless she consented 
to pay double as much as for the others. 
He gave me an account at the same time 
of the comparison which they had made of 
this bouquet with another like it of natural 
flowers, and urged me to repeat this ex- 
periment myself with Madame Durier ; he 
added that for some time Lucille had had 
the idea of making this sort of bouquet, 
v/hich had excited the admiration of all the 
connoisseurs of the country. 

‘‘ I followed his advice. Madame Durier 


The Young Flower-Maker. 103 

shared the admiration of the Tourainese 
connoisseurs, and it was then she presented 
this bouquet at the Universal Exposition, 
with objects of her own manufacture. 

This, young ladies, is the origin of the 
famous bouquet which yesterday made such 
a sensation at the Palace of Industry, and 
the history of its maker.” 




CHAPTER VI. 

LUCILLE’S SECOND JOURNEY TO PARIS. 

Madame Durier had foreseen, 

the bet of Lord and Sir 

William Brown (which was the 
name of his opponent) made a 
great sensation in the English society then 
in Paris. It was reported by Galignani s 
Messenger^ and copied by the principal 
London papers, and afterwards translated 
by the Paris papers. As she had also fore- 
seen, there was a great concourse of visit- 
ors to the place occupied by Madame Du- 
rier at the exposition. Sir William Brown 
brought there a number of his friends and 
acquaintances, and new bets were taken 
among them. Madame Durier kept her 
promise ; every time she was complimented 
on the bouquet, she answered that it was 
the work of one of her pupils, scarcely 





The Young Flower-Maker. 105 

eighteen years old, named Lucille Vuille- 
mot. 

“ Madame,” she was always answered, 
“ such pupils do honor to their mistress, 
and make us judge of the talent and capa- 
city of her who can form such subjects.” 
Then this compliment was often accom- 
panied by an order or a visit to Madame 
Durier’s store, whence they seldom came 
out without making some important pur- 
chases. 

The second bouquet, resembling that 
which had been the subject of the bet, was 
delivered before the time appointed by 
Mile. Cormier ; the hundred pounds ster- 
ling was counted, and, according to Lu- 
cille’s desire, half of that sum was paid to 
Madame Durier, the other half to her 
guardian, who immediately invested it in 
his ward’s name. 

Madame Durier, delighted with this 
proceeding, immediately sent numerous 
orders to Lucille, for which she now paid 
three or four times more than for the first. 
At length the great day of the distribution 
of prizes arrived. A medal was awarded to 
the house of Durier, and an honorable men- 


io6 Lucille ; or, 

tion granted to Mile. Vuillemot, as first 
workwoman and pupil of that house. 

‘‘ Madame Durier immediately set out to 
announce this news to Lucille, whom she 
had vainly invited to come and assist at the 
solemn distribution of prizes by the Em- 
peror’s own hand. Our astute business 
woman had her object in making this jour- 
ney, and on arriving she frankly spoke of it 
to Mr. de Souval. 

“ Sir,” said she, I have a proposal to 
make to you which is for your pupil’s in- 
terest. Lucille is no longer a child, as when 
she came to Paris four years ago. She is 
now over eighteen ; she is more sensible 
than many young persons are at twenty- 
five ; her talent is really remarkable ; but 
undoubtedly it will soon deteriorate if it 
remains long buried in a village. It is only 
in Paris that she can sustain and even in- 
crease it, because it is only there that she 
will meet with emulation to stimulate and 
models of taste to perfect it. I come, then, 
to-day to propose, not to take her as work- 
woman at a fixed salary, as I once offered, 
but to give her a share in my business. It 
is unnecessary, sir, to enter into long ex- 


The Young Flower-Maker. 107 


planations to make you understand the ad- 
vantages which will result from such a 
partnership for the present and especially for 
the future of your ward. My house is hon- 
orably known for a long time in the manu- 
facture of flowers. I have many connec- 
tions in France, and still more in foreign 
countries, as I can easily prove to your sat- 
isfaction. The reward which I have just 
received will increase my business so much 
that I fear I will not be able to supply 
my orders. I therefore want some one to 
assist me ; but I must be able to depend on 
that person as on myself. For this she 
must be young, intelligent, active, capable 
of appreciating and of directing the work 
as well as myself ; in a word, that she must 
be another self to me, having the same au- 
thority and the same interests ; therefore it 
is necessary that she be my partner. Now, 
I am convinced of finding all these quali- 
ties in Lucille Vuillemot, and it is on her 
that I have cast my eyes. I am no longer 
young ; in a few years, I shall probably re- 
tire from business. Well, it is to her that I 
will leave my house, only keeping a certain 
interest in it. Thus she could make a suit- 


io8 Lucille ; or, 

able marriage, and increase yet more the 
importance of our house ; but whether she 
remains*single or is married, her future — 
and a fine future, I venture to say — is no less 
certain to her." 

“ Madame," answered Mr. de Souval, “ I 
thank you in the name of my ward for the 
advantageous offer which you make her. It 
is very honorable to her ; it is so great a 
proof of the interest you take in her that 
she cannot help being deeply touched by it." 

‘‘ Undoubtedly I do take an interest in 
her; I said so long ago to Mile. Cormier, 
who did not seem to believe me. I love 
this young girl as if she were my child. I 
had not the happiness of having any 
children ; but, if I had any, I should have 
wished them to be like her." 

“ Ah ! you have no children ? " observed 
Mr. de Souval. 

“ No ; my deceased husband and I were 
much grieved about it ; but this did not 
prevent us from having numerous heirs, a 
lot of nephews and nieces on his side as 
well as on mine who count on succeeding 
me one day. I have no intention of 
wronging them, on the contrary, for I hope 


The Young Flower-Maker. 109 


even to increase my fortune by working 
with a partner ; but I will keep them out 
of it as long as I can.” 

“ How is it, since you have nephews and 
nieces whom you intend to make your 
heirs, that you did not choose one of them 
for your partner? ” 

“ Because there is not a single one of 
them who undertands my business, with the 
exception of the son of one of my niecesj 
who is now travelling in America for a silk 
and ribbon house in Lyons. This young 
man is very well spoken of, but I do not 
know him. I have already thought that, 
when he returns, he might be a suitable 
husband for Lucille. That would be just 
the thing ; but it is only a notion of mine, 
of which I only speak between ourselves. 
The main thing at present is the business 
which made me undertake this journey. 
Come, tell me frankly, what do you think 
of it ? ” 

“ Madame, I regard it as very advanta- 
geous for my ward, and I will use all my 
influence with her to induce her to accept 
your offer.” 

“ That is all I ask ; only I beg of you to 


no 


Lucille ; or, 


Lasten as much as possible the conclusion 
‘Of this affair, for, as you may well suppose, 
I have not time to make a long stay here, 
and I wish to know how it is to be before 
I leave.” 

Mr. de Souval replied that he perfectly 
understood her reasons, and would attend 
immediately to the affair. 

Before speaking of it to Lucille, he 
began by informing all the persons inter- 
ested in her, and asking their advice. All 
declared that it was for Lucille’s interest to 
accept such an offer, and that they must all 
unite in persuading her to it, for they fore- 
saw opposition on her part. 

In fact, when Mr. de Souval first 
broached the subject to her, she appeared 
frightened, made no answer, and began to 
cry. 

My child,” said Mr. de Souval, ‘‘ if 
you feel unwilling to accept the ad- 
vantageous offer which is made you, 
we do not wish — for I speak in the 
name of all your friends — to constrain 
you to it by the moral influence which we 
exercise over you ; but, before refusing, we 
must make you acquainted with the mo- 


The Young Flower-Maker, hi 


tives which determine us in advising you 
to accept it. You are sensible enough to 
understand them, and not to let yourself be 
induced by trivial motives, by what I call 
childishness, to lose so favorable an oppor- 
tunity of securing your future welfare.’ 

He then gave her a detailed account of 
Madame Durier’s proposal, and concluded 
by saying that she should accept it, not 
only for her own interest, but from duty 
and through gratitude towards Madame 
Durier, and even towards her foster-parents, 
whom she could more effectually resist, and 
for whose wants she could thus fully pro- 
vide. 

“ Now,” said he, in conclusion, “ I do not 
ask an immediate answer. Reflect, consult 
your other friends, and then you will de- 
cide.” 

With these words, he left her. 

The poor girl, left alone, immediately 
threw herself on her knees before the cru- 
cifix, fervently asking God to aid her with 
his light ; then she went to Sister Euphra- 
sia. The latter had been apprised by 
Mr. de Souval, so her answer was ready. 
As soon as Lucille had made known the 


II2 


Lucille ; or, 


object of her visit, the Sister urged her not 
to hesitate a moment in accepting it. 

“ But, Sister,” replied Lucille, “ I feel 
no vocation for business. I have taste, if 
you will, for the making of artificial flow- 
ers, and I have succeeded well enough in 
it ; but it is one thing to know how to 
make flowers, and another to know how to 
sell them. I saw very well what it was 
during the little time that I remained with 
Madame Durier. Well, I declare to you 
that I understand nothing at all of their 
sale, and that Madame Durier would have 
a very bad partner in me.” 

“ She is better^ able to judge of that than 
you, than I, or any one else. Be assured 
that, if Madame Durier wishes to have you 
for a partner, it is because she is convinced 
that you will be useful to her. Besides, in 
a business like hers, the sale is not only 
required : there is also the making, and 
you know that part perfectly ; there is also 
the purchase of tissues and other materi- 
als, which you likewise understand ; there- 
fore you will probably have to attend only 
to these matters, whilst Madame Durier 
herself will take charge of the sale. And, 


The Young Flower-Maker. 113 

besides, for this last part, you can easily 
learn it, for it is the least difficult, and you 
could soon replace her at need. But it is 
not that alone which frightens and repels 
you,” added Sister Euphrasia, smiling. 
“ What you are afraid of is the bustle of 
Paris, the tun^ult of the world ; what dis- 
tresses you is leaving your quiet habits, 
parting from your dear foster-parents and 
friends, amongst whom I hope I am 
counted.” 

“ Well, if all that be true, dear Sister — 
and I admit that you have guessed right — 
are my fears and my reluctance, then, so 
blamable ? ” 

No, certainly ; and I am far from blam- 
ing them ; but our life is but a life of sacri- 
fice and of privations, and, when circum- 
stances require it, we must know how to 
sacrifice our tastes and habits, however 
agreeable they may .be.” • 

“ I would perfectly understand that. Sis- 
ter, if it were question of making a sacri- 
fice for God, or to fulfil a duty of strict 
obligation ; but, in reality, what is it? To 
rush into business, to secure, I am told, my 
future welfare ; in a word, to make my for- 


Lucille ; or, 


114 

tune. Well, I declare to you candidly, and 
you know me well enough to be convinced 
of it, that wealth cannot tempt me. Pro- 
vided that I can, by my labor, supply my 
wants and those of the worthy people who 
received me in my poverty and destitution, 
I ask nothing more of the good God. Well, 
is not that desire accomplished now ? My 
work brings me in more than I had ever 
hoped for ; my parents and I want for no- 
thing ; and even, thanks to my guardian, 
Mr. de Souval, I have some savings to pro- 
vide for unforeseen events. Why should 
I, then, leave this calm and peaceful life 
which I lead here, to give myself up to the 
troubles and anxieties which the pursuit of 
wealth brings with it ?” 

“ I would be entirely of your opinion, 
my dear Lucille, if your present position 
were as certain as you think it. If you 
could count on regular supply of work, 
such as you now have, I should be the first 
to tell you. Stay here ; do not go to seek 
your fortune elsewhere. But as your guar- 
dian has very truly remarked, your present 
position is precarious ; it may change for 
the worse, even at once, if you break with 


The Young Flower-Maker. 115 

Madame Durier; for it is through her, 
by her agency, you remember, that you 
can obtain regular and constant employ- 
ment. But for her, who would come to 
seek you in this village ? Would the few 
ladies in the neighborhood who kindly fa- 
vored your first attempts suffice to keep 
you in work? You know that is impossi- 
ble. They, when they know that your 
connection with Paris has ceased, thinking 
you are no longer acquainted with the 
fashions, will themselves cease to employ 
you. You see, then, my dear child, that 
you would be wrong to count on the sta- 
bility of your present position in refusing 
the offer which is made you. As for that 
offer in itself, it undoubtedly presents an 
advantageous aspect for you, but it does 
not necessarily lead you to the possession 
of wealth. What it does secure you is 
work and plenty of it. It is probable that 
a suitable remuneration is attached to it, 
and that your part of the profits will per- 
mit you to provide for your foster-parents 
more amply and in a more certain manner 
than if you remain here ; but that, as I tell 
you, is only probable, for trade has risks to 


1 16 Lucille ; or, 

run, and they are not always fortunate. 
You see, then, my dear friend, that I am 
right in saying that circumstances require 
of you the sacrifice which you will make 
of the peaceful habits of your childhood. 
You can offer this sacrifice to God ; for it is 
not the craving for gain and wealth which 
will have urged you to change your po- 
sition, but necessity alone. Then, if the 
riches honestly gained by your labor come 
to reward it, you will know how to use 
them properly, not forgetting the poor, and 
to make of these earthly goods, which are 
an occasion of ruin for so many, a means 
of salvation for yourself,” 

All Lucille’s other friends spoke to her 
in nearly the same way as Mr. de Souval 
and Sister Euphrasia. Madame de Souval 
reminded her that she would find a very 
good friend in Mile. Cormier, and urged 
her to go and see her as often as possible. 

“ I have already thought of that,” an- 
swered Lucille ; “ for, seeing you all agreed 
on it,” added she, with a sigh, “ I have de- 
cided to accept Madame Durier’s offer, re- 
serving for myself permission to go and see 
Mile. Cormier often.” 


The Young Flower-Maker. 117 


“You have no need to make that reser- 
vation/^ said Madame de Souval ; “ you are 
no longer a workwoman or an apprentice : 
you are a partner, and as such you enjoy 
entire liberty, always provided that you do 
not use it to the injury of the house.’’ 

“You can not only go,” added Mr. de 
Souval, “ to see Mile. Cormier when you 
like, but in the summer, when business 
will permit, you can come to spend a day 
or two here. Consider that by rail we are 
only seven or eight hours’ journey from 
Paris ; you could, then, come here almost 
every Sunday, starting on Saturday after- 
noon, and returning to your business on 
Monday morning.” 

Madame Durier entered just as Lucille 
had announced her decision. On perceiving 
Lucille, whom she had not yet seen, she 
exclaimed : “ My ! what a tall, fine woman 
she has grown to be since I saw her four 
years ago ! ” Then she said in her abrupt 
way, addressing Mr. de Souval : “ But 
that is not the question ; can I count on 
her?” 

“ Yes, madame,” answered the guardian. 

Then Madame Durier, with an out- 


ii8 Lucille ; OR, 

burst of joy, rushed to Lucille with out- 
stretched arms : “ Come, my dear child ! let 
me embrace you ! ” And she clasped Lu- 
cille in her arms with maternal tenderness. 

When these demonstrations were over, 
Mr. de Souval brought back the conver- 
sation to serious questions. He asked 
Madame Durier what would be the nature 
of the partnership which she wished to 
form with Lucille, what part the latter 
would have in the profits, etc., etc. 

Madame Durier replied to all these ques- 
tions in a satisfactory manner, and Mr. de 
Souval proceeded to draw up a deed of 
partnership. 

Whilst her husband was writing, Ma- 
dame de Souval begged Madame Durier 
not to fatigue Lucille too much, especially 
in the beginning ; she mentioned her de- 
sire to see Mile. Cormier often, and even 
her project of coming sometimes in the 
summer to spend a day or two in Tour- 
aine. 

“ There is no obstacle to all that,” an- 
swered Madame Durier ; “ she can see 
Mile. Cormier as often as she likes ; as for 
making from time to time little trips to 


The Young Flower-Maker, i 19 

Touraine, she has only to let me know a 
few days before. I can imagine that, 
brought up in the country, she loves it 
very much, and that she will find living in 
the city, especially at first, a little tiresome ; 
but there is scarcely a Sunday that I do 
not myself go to the country, and Lu- 
cille shall accompany me whenever she 
wishes. I have even rented a small house 
at Fontenay-aux-Roses, with a garden, 
where I have a great variety of roses cul- 
tivated ; it is there that we often find the 
models for our artificial roses. This gar- 
den will, I am sure, please Lucille very 
much. Other times I go to the house of 
one of my nephews, who lives at Ville- 
d’ Avray ; another time to Clamart and to 
the woods of Meudon, to Bellevue, to 
Enghien, everywhere. You may well be 
proud of your Touraine. As for me, I 
find the suburbs of Paris prettier, and I 
wager that in two or three years hence 
Lucille will be of my opinion.’’ 

Lucille smiled incredulously ; but she 
was none the less pleased to learn that she 
could from time to time go to breathe the 
country air. 


120 


Lucille ; or, 


When Mr. de Souval had finished the 
deed of partnership, he read it aloud ; 
Madame Durier signed one copy, Lucille 
and her guardian signed the other. 

“ I would observe,” then said Mr. de 
Souval, “ that this is only a project ; it cannot 
become binding until after the fulfilment 
of certain formalities which necessitate 
some delay. Lucille cannot engage in 
business without the consent and autho- 
rity of her nearest relatives. I undertake 
to attend to all these formalities, and, when 
they are ended, I will myself go to Paris to 
bring you the act authorized by the family 
counsel ; it is only then that the deed we 
have signed to-day will become a regular 
act of partnership.” 

“ In a word,” said Madame Durier, 
‘‘ can I take Lucille with me at present ? 
Amongst honest people, an engagement, 
whether valid or not, by word or by writ- 
ing, is all the same ; it is not less sacred.” 

“That is, of course, understood, ma- 
dame ; you can consider Lucille Vuillemot, 
from this day, as your partner, according 
to the conditions agreed upon in this docu- 
ment. Nothing in it will be changed ; 


The Young Flower-Maker. 121 


therefore I see no obstacle to her going 
with you to-day.” 

Oh ! ” said Madame de Souval, ‘‘ I 
claim her until to-morrow morning. Con- 
sider that the rest of the day, and even 
part of the night, will not be too much for 
her to make her preparations and bid good- 
by to all.” 

“ Well, so be it,” said Madame Durier, 
“ we go to-morrow morning by the half-past 
seven train.” 

And the next morning, at the hour ap- 
pointed, the train carried off, in one of its 
cars, the two new partners, of whom one 
had a swelling heart, and the other a very 
joyful one. 




CONCLUSION. 

O conclude the story of Lucille, 
we thought we cpuld not do 
better than to reproduce in 
full, or by extracts, a part of 
the correspondence between some of the 
persons with whom our readers are already 
acquainted. 

Lucille Vuillcmot to Madame de Souval. 

‘‘ Paris, Oct. — , 1855. 

“ In my last I gave you an account of 
my journey, of my arrival in Paris, and my 
introduction at Madame Durier’s. Eight 
days have passed since then, and now I 
think I can better answer your questions 
as to my real position, and tell you if I 
think I can become accustomed to it. 

“ Let us speak first of my partner. Ma- 
dame Durier is a woman who is perfectly 
straightforward. You can imagine that 




The Young Flower-Maker. 123 

from the little you have seen of her. Quick, 
sometimes abrupt, I might even say pas- 
sionate. She says frankly all that she has 
on her mind ; but the moment after it is 
all over. She is an excellent woman at 
bottom, who is only a little fiery on the 
surface. I like her disposition a thousand 
times better than that of those smooth, 
hypocritical people who have honey on 
lips and gall in their hearts. I can easily 
get along with her, now that I know her. 
Before, she used to frighten me, I trembled 
before her ; now, when she is angry, I laugh, 
and she begins to laugh louder than I. 

“ On arriving here, I have already told 
you that she presented me to the work- 
women as a junior partner, to whom they 
owed obedience as to herself. But I did 
not tell you that, after having pronounced 
these words in her gravest tone, she per- 
ceived one of the older workwomen, who 
had known me during my month of ap- 
prenticeship, begin to laugh. Immediately 
changing her tone, she approached the girl, 
and, with threatening voice and gestures, 
said to her : ‘ Well, what are you laughing 
at ? ’ ‘ But I did not laugh, madame.’ 


124 


Lucille ; or, 


^ You lie ; I saw you laugh. I don’t want 
people to look as if they were making game 
of me to my face. If you are not content, 

go-’ 

“ Then the poor girl began to cry. ‘ Ah ! 
you are crying, now,’ said Madame Durier, 
changing her tone. ‘ Very well ; I like that 
better. Make an apology to Mile. Vuille- 
mot, and we will say no more about it.’ 

“ ‘ Pardon me, then,’ said I to Madame 
Durier. ‘ Mile. Josephine, whom I recog- 
nize, was one of my former companiorts in 
the workroom she has no apology to 
make to me ; only I ask her permission to 
embrace her, to renew our acquaintance.’ 

« ‘ Very well, bravo, my daughter ! ’ cried 
Madame Durier. ‘ Embrace her, then, if you 
wish ; Josephine is a good girl in the main ; 
but I wish that neither she nor any of the 
others should henceforth regard you as a 
companion, and that all should remember 
that you are mistress here as well as my- 
self.’ 

“ I embraced Josephine, then other old 
companions who had also known me, then 
the new ones ; at length I had embraced 
every one in the workroom. From this 


The Young Flower-Maker. 125 


time, I received on all sides only marks of 
sympathy and deference. 

“ From wljat I have told you, you can 
conclude that I think I can easily get along 
here. I say think, for I am not yet sure 
of it ; there is so much difference between 
the life which I lead here and that which I 
led in the village. Except that, I admit 
that Paris now presents itself to me under 
an entirely different aspect from what it 
did on my first visit. It is not that I am 
more accusto.med to its continual noise and 
bustle ; but .1 feel freer than I did then. I 
can, whilst busying myself with my work, de- 
vote myself to familiar exercises of piety, and 
this I could not do before. Then, as I al- 
ways rise- early, I go every morning to hear 
Mass at a church which is near the house, 
and I am back before the workroom and 
store are opened. In the evening, as 
I am alone in my room, I can say my 
prayers, read some passages from the Im- 
itation, or other works of piety, say my 
rosary, etc. All this is for me a powerful 
source of consolation, and makes me less 
regret my dear solitude. I am happy in 
having these few moments, morning and 


126 


Lucille ; or, 


evening, to recollect myself, for the rest of 
the day is so much taken up that the time 
passes with frightful rapidity. 

“ I have not yet spoken of Mile. Cormier. 
I have only seen her twice ; but what hap- 
piness I felt in conversing with her, speak- 
ing of you, of the country, of my good 
Mother Marguerite, of Father Michaud, 
of my dear Virgin’s altar, v/hich I so much 
regret, of Sister Euphrasia, and of our 
walks in the country, when she gave me 
lessons in botany ! These recollections 
made my tears flow, and I even yet feel 
my eyes moist in recalling them in these 
lines. 

“ At her second visit. Mile. Cormier 
brought me with her to the boarding- 
school. She first presented me to Mad- 
ame X , the mistress, saying to her 

such things of me as made me blush ; then 
she presented me to the pupils of the high- 
er class, and I found myself all at once, as 
it were, amongst old acquaintances. Mile. 
Cormier had told them so much about me 
that they all spoke to me as though I had 
been one of their old companions. Many 
of them had been to the exposition, and 


The Young Flower-Maker. 127 

were witnesses of the famous bet of which 
you know ; they had told their companions 
of it, so that all of them related that event 
to me in its slightest details, and over- 
whelmed me with questions, some of which 
it embarrassed me to answer, so much so 
that Mile. Cormier was obliged to request 
them to be more discreet. Otherwise, 
they are all very amiable young girls ; the 
greater number belong to the highest class- 
es in society, which account's for their affa- 
bility and simplicity of manners with a per- 
son like me, who is, after all, only an hum- 
ble flower-maker, notwithstanding the title 
of junior partner which Madame Durier 
gives me.” 

Mile. Cormier to Madame de Souval. 

Paris, April — , 1856. 

“ It is a long time, my dear friend, since 
I have spoken to you of our little Lucille. 
To tell you that Madame Durier is charmed 
with her, that the workwomen and all the 
persons belonging to the house are sincerely 
attached to her, will not surprise you. Lu- 
cille is one of those privileged natures who 


128 


Lucille ; or, 


have the gift of making themselves loved 
by all who surround or approach them. 
Our young boarders dote on her, and now, 
when they dress themselves, will have no 
other flowers than those which come out 
of the workroom of Mile. Lucille Vuillemot. 
Besides, it is now the fashion. An article 
lately appeared in a paper, which, on the 
occasion of I know not what soir6e at the 
house of a minister, mentioned one of our 
most beautiful ladies, whose toilet it de- 
scribed, and who had on her dress a spray 
of white roses made by Mile. Lucille Vuille- 
mot. Was this an advertisement which 
Madame Durier had had inserted ? I do 
not know ; but what is certain is that, since 
that time, the house of the ‘Widow Durier 
and Lucille Vuillemot’ (this is the com- 
mercial name which it has taken since the 
partnership) enjoys an astonishing repu- 
tation. It must be making money fast ; 
but poor Lucille is killing herself working, 
and I fear that her health must suffer. It 
is not the love of gain that actuates her ; 
she does not even think of it, and cares 
nothing about it ; but orders come in — she 
will allow none of them to be delayed ; and 


The Young Flower-Maker. 129 


once she has promised anything, she will 
pass nights, if need be, in keeping her pro- 
mise. During part of the winter, she has 
had a cold, which gives me much uneasi- 
ness ; it is not even yet quite cured. I 
often tell her to take care of herself, that 
she will kill herself if she goes on so. 

‘‘ ‘ Bah ! ’ answers she, ‘ it is not work, it 
is idleness, which kills. When I work, I 
forget ; whan I do not work, I remember, 
and it is that that does me harm.’ 

“ Alas ! yes ; the poor girl remembers — 
she remembers but too well the calm and 
happy life she spent in the village. We 
thought she was accustomed to her new 
existence, because she makes an extra- 
ordinary effort of will to accustom herself 
to it. She seeks to forget, in the whirl and 
excitement of business, as others do in 
drunkenness, also to forget some secret 
grief. 

“ I hoped that, once the parties and balls 
of the winter were ended, there would not 
be such a press of work, and that she could 
take some rest. And, indeed, as soon as 
Lent came, the orders lessened considera- 
bly ; but, in place of taking care of herself, 


130 


Lucille ; or, 


of keeping herself warm in her room, she 
began to follow all the religious exercises 
in several churches of Paris. Some of 
these churches were heated, others were 
not ; she was warm, she was cold ; she had 
her feet wet for whole days. When I ob- 
served this to her, and urged her to take 
care of her health, she answered : 

“ ‘ Ah ! you cannot imagine how much 
good it does me to pray to God in the 
church at my leisure ; to assist at the beau- 
tiful ceremonies ; to hear the Word of God ! 
I have been so long deprived of all this 
that I am like a strong man who, after hav- 
ing been long deprived of food, finds him- 
self all at once before a well-served table : 
he cannot satisfy himself ; he eats, not only 
to appease his present hunger, but to se- 
cure himself from future hunger.’ 

“ ‘ Very well,’ answered I, laughing ; 
‘ but beware of indigestion ! ’ 

“‘Of prayer? . . .’replied she, in the 
same tone. ‘ Oh ! that, as you know well, is 
not dangerous ; it never kills ; on the con- 
trary, it makes one live.’ 

“ In the Easter vacations, I had hoped 
to bring her to spend some days in the 


The Young Flower-Maker. 13 i 

country. We had made a plan of going to 
surprise you in Touraine ; but the weather 
has been so bad that the first days of spring 
are like the worst days of winter. Rain, 
or rather melted snow, hail, an icy north- 
west wind — all these we had during a part 
of Holy-week and Easter-week. To think 
of making pleasure-trips during such wea- 
ther! We had put off our journey till the 
first fine days ; Lucille was always consult- 
ing the barometer, and, when she did not 
come to see me, she wrote that the wea- 
ther would probably be fine next day, that 
I must be ready to start. Then, the next 
day, all was changed ; it rained and hailed 
harder than ever. At length, towards the 
15th of this month, the weather became 
milder, and everything promised at least a 
few fine days. We were going to profit by 
this to set out, when in the morning I re- 
ceived a letter from Lucille, which informed 
me that very large and pressing orders had 
just come to her from Russia. 

“ ‘ This,’ said she, ‘ is one of the first 
effects of peace with Russia ; for two years, 
Madame Durier, who used to have a great 
deal of business with that country, had lost 


132 


Lucille ; or, 


all connection with it ; it is now going to be 
renewed with greater activity. Yet who 
would have thought that so happy a thing 
as peace would prevent us from carrying 
out our charming plan ? It must only be 
given up, and I certainly would rather send 
flowers to Russia than to think that our 
soldiers should send them balls and bul- 
lets.’ 

“ Notwithstanding her apparent resigna- 
tion, I am sure that she felt this delay to 
be a great sacrifice. I went to see her two 
days ago ; she was, or at least appeared, 
very gay ; but it was because of the excite- 
ment of working, of which I have spoken 
to you. As for me, this gaiety pained me. 
When I asked for her cold, she told me it 
was almost cured ; but I do not believe it. 
I have often heard her give a little diy 
cough, which augurs badly enough. Oth- 
erwise, her face is not changed ; she is 
fresher and prettier than she ever was. She 
charged me to give her compliments to 
you, and to ask you to excuse her, that she 
cannot write just now, and, if you should 
see Sister Euphrasia, to make her the same 
excuses.” 


The Young Flower-Maker. 133 


Lucille Vuillemot to Sister Euphrasia. 

“ Paris, July 15, 1856. 

“ How long I am, my dear Sister, in find- 
ing a moment to write to you ! I have no 
need of excuses with you, for you are in- 
dulgent enough, and know me well enough 
to believe that, if I did not write to you, it 
was because it was impossible for me to do 
so. You must have received news of me 
from Madame de Souval, with whom that 
kind, good Mile. Cormier corresponds regu- 
larly. She has the goodness to speak of me 
to her, and I know that through her you 
have been informed of all that has happen- 
ed to me. 

. “ In my last letter, dated, I think, Easter 
Monday, I told you of the plan which Mile. 
Cormier and I had formed to go and see 
you ; but ‘ man proposes, God disposes.’ 
You know what unforeseen circumstance 
prevented us. I had always hoped that, this 
Russian order ended, we could at last carry 
out our project ; but, before the first was 
finished, there came a second, then a third ; 
so that we have had more work this sum- 
mer, which is usually the dull season, than 


134 


Lucille ; or, 


we have had during the whole winter. This 
fatigued me a little, for I have often been 
obliged to rise at three o’clock in the morn- 
ing, and work until night. Madame Durier 
scolded me, saying that I must not thus 
abuse my strength ; but what can I do ? I 
cannot leave the work undone. Besides, I 
did not feel very much fatigued in the be- 
ginning ; had it not been for this unfortu- 
nate cold which will not leave me, I could 
have easily continued ; but, instead of 
going away as I hoped, when the warm 
weather came, it returned worse than before, 
so that I was obliged to remain in bed for 
several days. I can say that Madame 
Durier and every one in the house has been 
most attentive to me. Every day since I 
have been with her I learn to know better 
the goodness of her heart. You cannot im- 
agine her attention to me. As she knows 
I like the country, she often takes me for a 
drive in the suburbs of Paris, which are really 
very beautiful ; it is nothing but magnifi- 
cent villas, parks, admirably cultivated gar- 
dens ; but that is not what I call the coun- 
try — the country that I love, where one can 
run, jump, gather flowers, as I used to do. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 135 


Alas ! that time passed quickly ; will it ever 
return? . . . Since it is no longer per- 

mitted me, as in that happy time, to gather 
flowers to decorate our Blessed Virgin’s 
altar and her statue, I wish at least to try and 
make up for it. I have commenced a wreath 
of white roses and some vases of flowers, 
which I will send you for the festival of 
the Assumption in a month. As I wish 
to work on it alone, and as I can only de- 
vote a few moments of each day to it, I 
rise earlier, so as to have time to finish it. 
I will address these articles in a case, some 
days before the festival, to Madame de 
Souval, wdio will send them to you. I wish 
you would have the kindness to have them 
blessed by our pastor before placing them. 

“ Will you be kind enough, my dear Sis- 
ter, to visit my foster-parents? Find out if 
they need anything, and let me know imme- 
diately. I have sent some wall-paper and 
furniture for my room ; find out if it is 
occupied. There is also a large cushioned 
arm-chair for Father Michaud ; I dare say 
he will think it too fine to use. Will you 
make him understand that, if he does not 
make use of it, I shall be very much vexed ? 


136 


Lucille ; or, 


Pardon me, Sister, for all the trouble I give 
you. I will wait to thank you till next 
September, for it is for that time that my 
journey is decidedly fixed.” 

Madame de Souval to Mile. Cormier. 

“La Souvaliere, October 25, 1856. 

“Alas ! my dear friend, the fears which I 
expressed in my last letter are but too soon 
realized.* I was at first much pained 
when I learned that it was impossible for 
you to come ; but now I am not sorry that 
you did not make this journey, which 
would have been for you only a cause of 
sadness and mourning. 

“ I told you in my last letter that the 
poor child when she arrived was not aware 
of her sad condition ; but Sister Euphrasia, 
the priest, my husband, and myself were 
not deceived. Her transparent complexion, 

* In that letter, dated in the commencement of Octo- 
ber, Madame de Souval gave her friend the details of 
Lucille’s arrival in Touraine. She spoke of the altera- 
tion in the young girl’s health, who appeared to her to 
be in the last stage of consumption ; then she pressed 
her to come and spend at least a few days at La Sou- 
valiere, if she would see her young friend alive. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 137 

the hectic flush of her cheeks, and her dry, 
troublesome cough which racked her chest, 
were symptoms more than sufficient to in- 
dicate the danger. My husband called in 
one of the most eminent physicians of 
Tours. As soon as the doctor had examined 
her, he told us that nothing could be done, 
that all that science could do was to relieve 
a little her sufferings, and to delay for 
some days the fatal event. He accordingly 
prescribed some soothing remedies, forbade 
all serious application, all fatiguing exer- 
cise, only permitting some walks, but care- 
fully avoiding the cool of evening and the 
morning dew. 

“ We made the sick girl scrupulously 
follow these prescriptions. I often accom- 
panied her myself in these walks ; then she 
spoke to me of those which she had once made 
with you to the same places. She showed 
me the rock where you sat when you gave 
her lessons in botany ; then she spoke of her 
plansTor the future, of the house which she 
wished to buy for her old parents, of the 
way in which she would furnish it, of the 
little room which she would keep for her- 
self ; for the poor child did not yet suspect 


138 


Lucille ; or, 


that she was on the verge of the grave. I 
listened with a breaking heart when she 
thus spoke, thinking that every leaf that 
fell was for her a forerunner of death, as 
the poet says in the touching elegy which 
we had learned together, called La Chute 
des Feuilles ” (The Fall of the Leaves) ; and, 
in looking at Lucille, I involuntarily re- 
peated to myself some lines of it. 

“ At length, when the disease had made 
such progress that we might expect at any 
moment to see herdife go out like a spent 
lamp. Sister Euphrasia undertook to tell 
her the sad news. Lucille heard her with- 
out emotion. Then she answered calmly : 
^ A little sooner, a little later, it makes but 
little difference, since we must all die. . . . 
The little I have known of life has not been 
such as to make me regret it. I would 
only regret parting from those whom I love, 
if I had not the firm hope of seeing them 
again, even in a place where I shall no 
longer fear the parting. Well,' said she, 
almost smiling, ‘ now that you have told 
me of my journey, I must think of the pre- 
parations.’ 

That very day she went to confession. 


The Young Flower-Maker. 139 

and received communion. In the after- 
noon, as she still felt strength to walk, she 
wished to go to the cemetery to pray at 
her mother’s grave. She showed Sister 
Euphrasia, who accompanied her, the place 
where she wished to be buried. Then, re- 
turning to her room, she sent word to my 
husband to come to her. It was that he might 
make out a copy of a will, by which she left 
all that she possessed to her foster-parents. 
She copied this document with a firm hand, 
and gave it to my husband, saying : ‘ I thank 
you, sir, for all your kindness to me. Tell 
Madame de Souval not to forget me in her 
prayers. I shall not forget her in mine, if I 
have the happiness, as I humbly hope I 
may, of going soon to our true country.’ 

“ The following night she was taken with 
a violent fever, which lasted for twenty-four 
hours. When it had abated, the patient 
seemed as if coming out of a dream, but 
her weakness was extreme. ‘ I have just 
seen,’ said she to Sister Euphrasia, who was 
watching beside her — ‘ I have just seen the 
Blessed Virgin with the crown of white 
roses which I made for her feast. She said 
to me : ‘‘ My child, I expect you this eve- 


140 


Lucille 


ning, that I may myself place this crown on 
your brow/' ' Was it a dream, was it a 
vision, was it a recollection of the legend 
which she had read in her childhood ^ The 
fact is, that that evening, just as the sun was 
setting, Lucille’s pure soul winged its flight 
to heaven. ' 

“ The last crown which she had made for 
the Blessed Virgin was laid on her coffin.” 




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